A Different Type of Whole
by It Belongs In A Museum
Summary: Sequel to The Same Kind of Broken. Evelyn Walsh walked onto that ship to save Ben, but what is she when she leaves? She doesn't know, and that terrifies her. All she knows is that, whatever happened to her, she is going to fight it and the ones who did it to her. Join her as she returns to the 2nd Mass and faces struggles with her comrades and within herself. Hal/OC
1. Prologue - Radio Silence

**I'm back! I wrote about a third of my original story, but was feeling a bit blocked so I decided to work on this for a bit. I hope you guys are happy to see me writing again! If you are reading this first, you should really go back and read my first story, because otherwise this one might not make much sense. Last time I wrote, I published a chapter every 2 days. I won't be able to keep that up this time as I'm working hard on a job hunt. Expect one every week or so.**

**Disclaimer - I don't own Falling Skies, only my OCs.**

Chapter One – Radio Silence

"Come _on_, Evey! Don't be such a girl."

The little girl with red hair sitting next to the little boy with brown hair folded her arms and huffed dramatically. "It has nothing to do with whether or not I'm a girl, Hal, I am not eating that earthworm. It's gross, not to mention unsanitary. Do you know how many germs could be on that thing?"

"Oooh, Evelyn knows all the big words," he said elbowing her in the side and dangling the earthworm in front of her face. "You know, I think you're just using all those big words of your to hide the fact that you are chicken. Buc-buc-bucah! Chicken."

The little girl rolled her eyes and stood up from the bench where she was sitting. "What are you, five years old? Go hang out with Ben if you're going to act like that, you idiot."

"I'm not five, I'm ten," he said getting up off the bench and following her, "and you're chicken. Eat the worm." He waved it in front of her face like a pendulum, back and forth as if he was trying to hypnotize her.

"Why would I eat the worm?" she demanded with her hands on her hips. "I bet you haven't even eaten one before."

"Sure I have," he said quickly.

The little girl narrowed her eyes at him. "You're lying."

"No I'm not," the boy proclaimed, "and I'll prove it." He closed the worm in his fist and raised it to his mouth, throwing his head back enthusiastically.

The girl scrunched up her face in disgust. "Ewwwwww. Hal, that's gross."

"It's not gross," he replied through a wide smile. "It tastes just like chicken. Just like you probably do. Because you're a chicken."

The girl flipped her braid of bright red hair over her shoulder over her shoulder dramatically. "Yeah, well, at least I'm not diseased."

Then the boy ran up to the girl and quickly pressed his lips against hers. He took a couple of steps back with a massive grin covering his face. "There you go, Evey! Now we're both diseased!"

"Hal! Why would you _do_ something like that!" she screeched, wiping at her mouth as he laughed maniacally. "Now I've got worm on me!"

But the boy kept laughing. So she reached down and pulled off a shoe and threw it at his head. It connected with a loud thump.

"Ow! Evey what was that for?" he asked, rubbing at his head.

The girl was marching out of the backyard with loud, angry stomps. "For being a jerk!" she shouted over her shoulder.

"Oh, come on Evey! I didn't even eat the worm! Look, it's still in my hand!"

"You're still a jerk!" she shouted back.

"What about your shoe?"

"I'll come back for it later!"

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Evelyn woke with a start. She had had a strange dream. Only it was more of a memory than a dream. It was like looking at an old photograph, one that had aged and yellowed a bit where everything and everyone seems so happy, but are now so far away. She could feel some of that residual happiness but it was fading away fast and it was replaced with cold.

There was a strange sort of light shining directly in her eyes. She still kept them squeezed shut, but she could see the veins in her eyelids from where the light was seeping through that flimsy bit of skin. When she finally opened them, she found herself in a tiny space with strange tubes running all over the place. Her mind raced as it tried to work out where she was and what had happened. She remembered the tower exploding, the ride home, Hal's brain-jacked sort-of girlfriend appearing out of nowhere, and then walking onto that ship hand-in-hand with that pretty, blonde Chucky doll. Then something with way too many hands had grabbed her and forced into that tiny little compartment saturated in that harsh blue light. That's when she had started to freak out, hyperventilating to the point that she passed out.

There were a lot of things to be scared of in the world—especially now. Life had become pure, unadulterated 24/7 combat. There were guns and explosions and people were dying all around you. Every time you blinked you had to be prepared to say goodbye to a friend, or to die yourself. Fear floated around through the air like pollen during springtime or like some airborne virus. You would think that after everything she had been through, she would have built up a sort of immunity to it. Some sort of antibody against anxiety. But even after everything she had been through, Evelyn found something new to be afraid of. She was claustrophobic.

What a joke. She was claustrophobic. It was like she was some sort of kid who was afraid of the monster under the bed or the boogeyman in her closet. She liked to think of herself as some kind of badass fighter, but shove her into a tightly confined space and she turned into that stupid chick who dies at the beginning of bad horror movies. She felt weak, and Evelyn hated feeling weak. One thing was for sure—being a martyr sucked.

Evelyn knew that time was passing, but for her there seemed to be no concept of it. There was nothing to mark it by. No clocks, no sunlight, nothing. She didn't know how long she was in that little pod, or whatever the hell it was called. It felt like an eternity. That's why she hated being closed off like that so much. She could be there for months and not really know it. Or, what's worse, she could have only been there a day or two. What would that mean for the rest of her life if the rivers of time moved so slowly for her? She would lose her mind—but then again, given that thing growing in her brain, losing her mind was inevitable. She would just rather that it didn't happen sooner rather than later.

Evelyn tried to maintain her cool, to stay calm. That didn't last too long. That squid-headed thing had delivered some cryptic message, told her it wanted to learn from her, and then locked her up? It didn't make any goddamn sense. They could kill her easily, so what was the delay? Evelyn was sick of all the bullshit. And she wanted to know what was happening to Ben. Eventually she snapped.

"LET ME OUT OF HERE!" she screamed, kicking and punching at the metal walls that surrounded her. "WHY DID YOU TAKE ME, HUH? TO LOCK ME UP AND THROW AWAY THE KEY? WHAT'S THE USE IN THAT!"

Evelyn could feel herself starting to hyperventilate again, so she stopped thrashing and forced herself to breathe more slowly. It left this feeling of a gaping hole in her lungs, like they were trying to fill with that stale, sick smelling air, but she just wouldn't let them. She braced her hands against solid surface in front of her and gritted her teeth, trying to use that physical action to stave off the anxiety that was choking her.

"Think about the good things," she whispered to herself. So she closed her eyes and ran through the images in her head. Max and Marjorie and Cecelia, that little family they had formed. Even at the center of the massive shitstorm called life they found each other and they were happy. Maggie's face when she had showed Evelyn the first ultrasound. Ben and Amy sitting together and laughing about some very rude, although accurate, comment the little blonde girl had made. Evelyn even snorted thinking about little Amy. If she had a little sister, she would have wanted it to be Amy. Then there was Tom and Anne kissing, proving to her that even old people could find love. And then there was Tom and Matt and Ben and Hal. That family…..they could make it through anything. They would always manage to find a way to cling to each other. No matter what. And wasn't that beautiful? Wasn't that what life was all about? It was something worth trading herself for.

_Life is a pile of good things and bad things_, she thought to herself, _the good things don't always soften the bad but vice versa the bad things don't necessarily spoil the good things or make them unimportant._ That was her favorite quote from Doctor Who. It seemed to fit her situation in that moment. No matter how bad things got, you could always hold on to the good bits. Evelyn smiled to herself again. In the corner of her brain there was a little voice screaming the word 'nerd!'. That little voice sounded a lot like Hal.

Hal. She really missed him. She had kissed him the last time she saw him and then walked away, probably to her ultimate death. He didn't care that she was slowly dying or that in a few years the tumor would turn her brain to Swiss cheese. He didn't care that she would start drooling on herself and wetting herself when one by one her bodily functions failed her. What was it that he said? 'I'll take whatever I can get,' that's what he had said. Or at least that's what he said now. He'd probably change his mind when she became incontinent or when her IQ dropped by 40 points. But still, he was Hal. And if she was being honest, she would take whatever she could get, too. That was probably selfish of her. Not that any of that mattered anymore seeing as she was going to die on this ship. Poor Hal. The last two girls he kissed were kidnapped and/or brainwashed and/or dead. The boy must be developing some sort of psychological complex. That probably shouldn't make her want to laugh, but it did. It would probably make him laugh too.

Evelyn wanted to sleep. God, she really, really needed to sleep. But that damn light just kept shining in her eyes and never ever stopped. Her eyes were aching in their sockets. They were itching so much that she almost wanted to tear them out to get some sort of relief from it. Her mouth was so dry that her lips seemed to stick together every time she tried to open her mouth. She started kicking again, more weakly than before.

"Hey!" she croaked, her voice raspy from both dehydration and disuse, "Hey! I am NOT going to die in here! You want to kill me? Shoot me! But this is complete bullshit! At least do me the decency of looking in my eyes when the light goes out of them! I refuse to die in the dark like a scared little girl OR a busty co-ed!"

Nothing.

Evelyn kicked some more. "I AM TALKING!"

Then she heard a scraping noise and looked down at her feet. Holy crap. They had listened to her. A panel had been pulled out and was now revealing a skitter. She stared at it in shock. It was the first living creature she had seen for over—she didn't really know how long. Then she started kicking some more, getting a few good shots in before it managed to grab hold of her leg.

With one good yank she found herself sliding out of the pod and crashing onto the floor of the ship. Strange. She didn't remember the pod being at an incline. After all the time she spent in there she must have forgotten and just assumed it was horizontal. Evelyn rolled onto her back, disoriented, and looked around her wildly. The floor of the ship was smooth and cool and the walls were sloping and had this sort of lattice-work pattern of beams that was bathed in even more glowing blue light. It almost looked like a hive.

Evelyn coughed a bit, taking in ragged breaths of air. It was somewhat fresher than what she had in the pod, but it still smelled vaguely putrid. Before managed to catch her breath, she felt a sort of pressure at her abdomen. She looked down and saw a staff that was pressed into her stomach. Her eyes followed the length of it until she saw that it was being held by the skitter. And about half a second later her entire body was wracked with mind-numbing agony. She heard screaming, and it took a moment to realize that it was her own voice ringing out through the corridor.

The pain stopped for a moment and Evelyn glanced back at the skitter. She tried her best to look defiant. That damned alien was not going to see her beg for mercy. The skitter cocked its head to the side in a way that seemed unnervingly human. Then it pulled the trigger or flipped the switch or did whatever it had to do to send waves of pain coursing through her body. It felt kind of like those seizures that she had had when she was little, before her first surgery, but somehow managed to be more painful. Evelyn could see those blue waves of electricity coursing down her body as it flopped and spasmed uncontrollably. She was really starting to hate the color blue. It was some sort of depressing form of aversion therapy.

Eventually the pain stopped, but Evelyn felt another sort of pressure on her chest and throat. She opened her eyes, but everything was blurry. She was seeing double. The two images slowly moved together until they reconciled themselves into a single clear image.

The skitter leaning over her was incredibly ugly. When it came to the skitters, she didn't think that there could be varying degrees of ugly. She just thought they were all hideous, but this one…It's face was asymmetrical, with one side sagging more than the other. It looked almost as though his face had been melted like candle wax. And one of its eyes was a deep blood red. For some reason it made her think of some crazy, intergalactic version of _The Phantom of the Opera_. Nerd.

Evelyn grabbed the foot that was pinning her to the ground and struggled against it.

"What do you want from me?" she demanded through gasping breaths. The foot planted on her throat wasn't choking her, but it was making it very difficult to breath. "I said…what…do you…want…from me?"

She didn't know why she was talking to it. It wasn't as if the skitter could respond. It kept leaning in closer and closer until she saw that it was holding some sort of needle in its other hand. Evelyn screamed. Not one of those terrified screams but one of the angry, vicious kind. Her hands started clawing away at the foot forcing her to the ground and she kicked wildly and violently.

"GET THAT THING AWAY FROM ME!"

But it didn't make any difference. Pain flooded her body as she got zapped with the wizard staff again, making her so numb that she almost didn't feel that light pinch as the needle was being forced into the side of her neck.

Then all the sudden the skitter stepped back, releasing her from the floor. Evelyn pushed herself up on her arms and pushed herself backwards and away from the creature until her back hit the wall behind her. She used the wall to force herself to her feet and tried to run, but it felt like she was moving through water, like the air was fighting her and trying to slow her down. Her limbs began to feel very very heavy and her brain began to feel fuzzy. And then there was that sinking feeling. Evelyn recognized that sinking feeling. She had been drugged enough times to recognize the symptoms. But this time Max wasn't sitting next to her and smiling like a smug sonofabitch.

Evelyn knew that she wasn't going to be able to escape, her mind was dropping out too fast, but she kept running anyway. Even though it was futile, even though the skitter was just playing with her, she owed it to herself and to the 2nd Mass to at least try. But for some reason she couldn't make herself shake the feeling that she was the rat in one of those psychology studies that was trying oh-so desperately to find the cheese. And the skitters were that PhD with a lab coat and clip board looking down at her and watching her flounder.

Eventually she started stumbling. Then she was falling. Then she was crawling. Then she was being dragged. Evelyn could feel herself fading in and out of consciousness. She could never see anything clearly. It was like she was looking through a fog. All she could see were scales and metal and all she could feel were numbness and pain. She tried to fight to wake up, but she couldn't. Eventually everything faded to black, and she felt nothing.

**Reviews are love. And kill skitters. Seriously please review. It makes me feel like there's a point in me writing this.**

**In the meantime...LERRRRRRROOOOOOOOOYYYYYYY JENKINS!**

**Also, you should really check out the story 'From Your Lips' by LMScatterbrain. It is a seriously interesting story, with loads of creativity in terms of point of view. I'm serious, check it out.  
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	2. I Know What You Did Last Summer

**Hello again guys! I would just like to thank all of you for reading/reviewing/following (namely BookWorm0001, , Ophelia Nation, PandoraPhoenix, Sioxsie, angel2u, .sky, and Katie, whoever you are). I am really glad you guys stuck with the story through its sequel and I hope that I am doing justice to it and you.**

**PLEASE REVIEW BECAUSE: 1) I love and need feedback to make this story better, 2) because I really need to know if people are reading and/or enjoying this, and 3) because my ego needs to be coddled to a ridiculous extent.**

**As with the previous story (of which I wrote 120,000 words in about a month and a half), I will not hold you hostage to reviews, but I really do love them and appreciate them, so humor me please? OK, I sound kid of pathetic now.**

**Disclaimer: Like you guys really need me to say it...I do not own Falling Skies. SPIELBERG *shakes fist* Any dialogue you recognize was taken from the show (and I hope that I'm not being too unoriginal with my storytelling, but I'm going to have it follow Season 2)  
**

**That was an obscenely long Author's Note. You get a cookie if you actually read it. Not an actual tasty food cookie, but a tracking cookie. You guys should seriously be more vigilant when it comes to computer protection stuff.  
**

Chapter One - I Know What You Did Last Summer

Evelyn was barely aware that she was being dragged again. She was pretty out of it. The skitters had been keeping her catatonic for what felt like days. She really didn't want to know what kind of drugs they shoved into her system, or what they had done to her while she was unconscious. Maybe she had been harnessed and this small, weak sense of self was all she had left. All she could remember was blue light and cold, sharp metal.

Evelyn never thought that much about torture. Sure, she was against it, and sure she had discussed it as a part of high school debate team and model UN (the Hal-voice was screaming 'nerd!' again). She had even gone to one or two protests against Guantanamo Bay. The thing was, she had never really thought about the act of torture, about how much the human body could take before the will to live just leaked away. She never thought that was something that she would have to think about, something that was relevant to her life. But being dragged down that corridor, it suddenly felt incredibly and irrevocably relevant, because whatever she had been through on that ship, she was fairly certain that it qualified as torture.

Whoever, or rather whatever, was dragging her seemed to reach its destination because it dropped her, causing her head to hit the ground with a sickening crack. Evelyn groaned and moved slightly, rolling over onto her back. Someone was shaking her talking to her. Actually talking to her with a human voice. It wasn't that deadened monotone voice of one of the harnessed kids, she could hear it yelling. It was angry or sad or….something. She couldn't really tell. To her it sounded like one of the adults from the Peanuts cartoons—wah wah wah—more of a sound than actual words.

All of the sudden Evelyn felt blinding pain. She screamed and arched her back as every muscle in her body contracted involuntarily. But when the pain stopped, it was like everything snapped back into focus. She wasn't back in her pod, but in a wide open room, and there was a man leaning over her. His face was turned to the opposite side of the room and he was yelling angrily. Evelyn blinked heavily three times, bringing the room into focus. She looked into the distance to see what the man was yelling at.

Evelyn gasped. It was one of the squiggly creatures. She wanted to call it an 'Overlord', but that felt a bit cliché. It was seated in a strange throne-looking structure. To Evelyn it appeared to be a massive firefly that was placed in some sort of contortionist position, the back of the seat was glowing eerily and it had projections off the side that looked like spindly insect legs.

"YOU LEAVE HER THE HELL ALONE! SHE'S JUST A KID!" the voice was screaming.

Evelyn felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. That was Tom's voice. He wasn't supposed to be here. He was supposed to be back with the 2nd Mass as part of that glorious little family portrait she had formed in her head. That was how she was getting through this crap-factory of a situation, by being sure that somewhere off in the distance the Masons had each other. Well that little delusion had been smashed into a million little pieces.

"It matters little to us what her age is," a familiar dead voice said. Evelyn turned her head towards the sound and saw Karen standing there, perfectly still, just like the day she was taken. Evelyn wondered what that voice sounded like before the harness, if she sang or laughed or whistled or hummed. Would she ever do any of that again? It wasn't fair, deep down Evelyn knew that she was just a prop, but right now, she hated that girl. "She is alive as a gesture of good faith to you, Tom Mason. We could just as easily have killed her, yet here she lies before you, more or less intact."

Evelyn groaned and pushed herself up on her elbows. "I call bullshit," she said with as much volume as she could possibly muster. She was still seriously dehydrated. "If you wanted insurance you would have taken Hal, but you didn't. You took me. So there's got to be some weird part of your plan that involves me specifically."

Tom ran over to him and helped her stand. She was still wobbly so he pulled one of her arms over his shoulder and circled one of his around her waist, allowing her to lean against him. "You're not supposed to be here," he whispered into her ear.

"_You're_ not supposed to be here," she hissed back. She stared at Tom, looking over his face to see if he was alright. The area under his eyes looked purple and bruised, much like she imagined hers must look right now. He looked as tired as she felt. But other than the thin crust of blood that caked the side of his face, he looked alright. He was dirty and grimy and still wearing the same clothes as the last time she saw him, but other than the obvious exhaustion and general lack of hygiene, he was fine.

They were staring at each other anxiously for a few moments when that grating voice rang out once more. "Do not overestimate your importance to us Evelyn Walsh. You have already served your purpose. You fling yourself into the line of danger again and again because your imminent death gives you no hope for the future. You are no longer a question for us to ask. You are only an annoyance to eliminate, much like the rest of your kind."

"Well honestly, that's rather rude," she muttered under her breath.

The squiggly tall alien stood up and advanced towards the two of them. Evelyn tried to ignore the shiver that ran down her spine and look strong, but that was difficult when she was being held up by another person.

"We have studied you in great detail, professor," Karen's warped voice said. "We've drawn from that to make a proposal that would end hostilities between us. In exchange for sanctuary, we will set aside a protected area where human survivors will be relocated."

Evelyn could feel Tom shifting uncomfortably on his feet next to her. "Like some kind of prison camp?"

"A place where you would be allowed to live in peace." Despite the monotone nature of Karen's voice, it actually managed to sound quite hostile to Evelyn.

Evelyn stood up straight and extracted herself from Tom. She was determined to stand on her own two feet while confronting this thing. Her voice was low and deadly when she spoke, though much of that could be attributed to the fact that her throat was so dry. "If I wanted a semantic argument or some bullshit 'spin' factor," she said using air quotes, "I'd watch CNN. Call it what it is: a concentration camp."

The squiggly alien paced back and forth in front of them. "You must be familiar with the concept," it replied. "It was taken from your own history."

"The worst of it," Tom replied. "You can't hand pick from our darkest moments like Cambodia or Nazi Germany."

"Or Nanking. Nilai. The Trail of Tears. Please, Professor Mason we can think of more examples. Be honest. Oppression is in your nature."

Evelyn felt a surge of anger run through her blood. She took a few wobbly steps forward. "What right do you have to question our morality? You're not just oppressing, you're stamping out an entire planet. What you're doing it's—it's xenocide."

Tom grabbed Evelyn's arm and pulled her back. She had gone to close to the tall alien for his comfort. She stumbled backwards colliding with something solid behind her. When she glanced back she saw that it was the same skitter with the red eye, still holding the magic wizard electricity stick. It nudged her in the back causing pain to shoot through her body and making her collapse onto her hands and knees.

Tom pulled her to her feet again, keeping hold of her hand, but this time most of his attention was focused on the figure before him. "So that's how you justify the murder of billions?" he demanded, anger emanating through his voice. "You cite out past mistakes and judge us based on them? If those atrocities are the worst of us, what does that make you?"

The creature walked up to them, its tall frame bending down so that it was almost face-to-face with Evelyn and Tom. Evelyn could feel it's breath on her face. It smelled like death. She gritted her teeth and looked the thing straight in the eye, refusing to blink. She was sure that Tom was doing the same. "What we are, Professor Mason, are the ones who decide if your world lives or dies."

Evelyn stared at the thing, studying its face. Its eyes were deep and dark, bottomless even. She could see an intellect there, one that she could never possibly understand, nor even aspire to understand. But it wasn't a benevolent intellect. It was cold and cruel and calculating. If death took corporeal form, she imagined it would have those eyes. So goddamnit she would laugh in its face. "Do you come up with this cryptic dialogue off the top of your head," she sneered, "or do you develop it ahead of time for occasions just like this one?"

The creature, which was originally focused on Tom, quickly turned its head to face Evelyn. "It would be unwise to use mockery, Evelyn Walsh, as you are entirely at our mercy."

Evelyn flashed a smile and shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "Well it's like you said. I'm dead already, so why not have a little fun before I kick the bucket."

The overlord moved its head almost imperceptibly and she was suddenly on the ground again, writhing in pain. Tom was yelling and she was screaming and when the pain stopped and she looked at the overlord, she could swear it was smiling. "You know," she said through gasps of breath, "you have a terrible sense of humor."

"Humor is of no use to us, Evelyn Walsh," it replied.

Tom suddenly stepped in front of her and started talking very rapidly. Evelyn was fairly certain it was to make her stop talking and shift the attention so that she wouldn't get hurt again. She sighed. That was Tom, noble to the point of self-destruction. Then again she was doing a pretty bang-up job of being self-destructive all on her own. She didn't need a champion, but she should have realized that Tom would have stepped in regardless.

"I don't care what you wanted from us," he said. "There must have been a way to get it peacefully. You didn't even try to talk to us before the attack."

"Come on, Tom," she groaned, "you're ruining this witty banter with your rational discourse. I think Patrick the starfish is starting to get the hang of it."

"Shut up and stay behind me," he whispered angrily.

Evelyn stayed on her hands and knees, breathing heavily while Tom talked with the Overlord. For once she decided to stay out of it. It was probably best if she didn't get zapped again seeing as it would probably lead to some sort of permanent brain damage. Her joints were aching from being in the same position so long. She cracked her neck and brought her hand to the base of it to massage it and work out all the kinks that had formed. And then her breath caught in her throat.

It was gone. The scar that had been there for so long was gone and all that was left was soft, smooth, tender skin, like someone had gone over it with a belt-sander and rubbed away all the excess scar tissue. It felt like the skin left after her mother used to attack her with exfoliant, pink and raw. She probed the area with her fingers. There was a just a thin line of scabbing that ran along the area where the thick, knotted flesh used to be. She pushed down hard along that line, and she felt something there that wasn't bone. It was hard and solid and it rested just below the surface of the skin.

This is what they wanted her for. How could she have been so damned naïve? They hadn't dragged her in for some philosophical inquiry about human morality or the will to fight. They had cut into her head and put something there. Evelyn tried to fight against that sick feeling in her stomach, but she found herself retching anyway. She coughed and hacked, but her stomach was empty so all that came out was the acid. It burned and scorched her esophagus and her throat started screaming for water even more than it had been before.

Evelyn took several deep, shaky breaths and spat on the ground, trying to remove the disgusting taste from her mouth. She blinked away the tears that had formed in her eyes and wiped the corners of her mouth with her sleeve. It seemed ridiculous, but finding out whatever they had done to her was not her first priority right now. Her priority was getting herself and Tom out of there alive.

Evelyn hauled herself to her feet again and stood straight, fighting the dizzy feeling. Tom was still facing off with the Overlord, so she moved to stand at his shoulder, folding her hand into his and giving him any iota of support that she could produce. He squeezed back hard, trying to tell her everything would be okay.

"So those are our alternatives," he said looking up at the Overlord, "to live as prisoners or die?"

"Why would you expect better from us than you do from yourselves?" Evelyn felt her free hand clench into a tight fist, turning her knuckles wiped. She would not be patronized by something that devastated a planet.

"I would expect better," Tom said with a measured voice, "because I look around this ship, at the technology that brought you from another world, and I want to believe that only an advanced species could have achieved so much."

Evelyn gritted her teeth. "For a history professor, you are quick to forget about Machiavelli. They achieved so much because they are cruel. Isn't that right?" She stared at the Overlord, but it said nothing. Evelyn laughed a little. It was a hysterical laugh, a bitter laugh. "That's what you do isn't it? You go to a planet, enslave an entire race, and then build your empire on their backs. You know what you are?" she said pointing an accusing finger. "You are a parasite. A massive intergalactic tapeworm. It makes me wonder how much of this technology actually started out as yours. Did you invent it, or did you steal it from another species and corrupt it?"

Evelyn half expected to be zapped again, but she wasn't. The Overlord just raised a single, ominous arm, pointing at them both while Karen mimicked the action somewhere in the background. "You will lead your people to the neutral zone," was all it said before it turned its back and continued back towards its throne.

"What's to guarantee that we'll be safe there?" Evelyn shouted after it. "How do we know you're not just rounding us up to make it a more convenient massacre?"

But she got no response.

Next to her, Tom was shaking. His hand was vibrating in hers, until he suddenly and angrily yanked it away. Evelyn looked at him closely. His eyes were wide with an almost manic expression on his face, and he was shaking his head in a way that looked pathological. It had finally become too much for him, he had snapped, and that worried Evelyn. She had never known Tom to be anything but rational and collected, but now he looked almost wild with anger. "No," he said quietly. His voice was dangerous, and in that moment Evelyn knew he was going to do something drastic, and, most likely, stupid.

But the Overlord couldn't tell, or maybe it just didn't understand. Maybe the use of such obviously reckless and self-destructive behavior just didn't compute for that species, whether it be the inability to understand emotion or some sort of assumption of the desperate need to prolong one's own life. Ultimately it didn't matter, the only thing that mattered was that it still had it's back turned when it said, "Then the choice has been made."

Evelyn kept her place at Tom's shoulders and leaned in close to his ear. "Don't be stupid, Tom," she whispered anxiously. But he ignored her, shaking his head like he was trying to get rid of a fly buzzing around his ear.

"I would be careful about drawing too many lessons from the past," Tom spat out through clenched teeth.

"And why is that," the Overlord said, turning to face him again.

Tom shrugged his shoulders and gave a bitter smile. "Because our future is yet to be written."

And then all hell broke loose. Tom shoved Evelyn to the side, causing her to lose her balance to the dizziness that still addled her brain, and ran straight at the skitter that was standing behind them. The next few things to happen seemed to take place in slow motion. Tom grabbed hold of that wizard staff and wrenched it out of the arms of the skitter guarding them with an almost inhuman strength. The next thing she knew, the Overlord was covered in that blue electricity that she had become so familiar with. Evelyn didn't seem to mind it that much this time.

But soon enough the red-eyed skitter grabbed hold of Tom and tossed him across the room with strength that actually was inhuman. Tom sailed through the air like a rag doll and crumpled into a heap about fifteen feet from were Evelyn was standing. She heard another scream rip from her throat. She was trying to say his name, but all that came out was a mangled cry.

Evelyn ran over to the body. It was limp. "Please don't be dead," she whispered anxiously while leaning over him. "You're Tom Mason, you can't be dead. Somebody needs to be around to tell me when I'm being stupid. I'm counting on you for that. I won't let you be dead."

Evelyn set her jaw, refusing to cry. Her fingers found their way to his carotid artery to check for a pulse. It was faint, but it was there. She held her hand in front of his mouth and felt a little bit of moist air hit it. She let out a sigh of relief and collapsed on the floor next to hi, pushing the wild tangled mess of red hair out of her face and trying to mentally top her heart from racing a million beats per minute. She turned back to the Overlord. "What do you want from us?"

It was sitting in its throne again, looking down at her with an expression that could only be described as condescending. "We want nothing more from you or the professor, Evelyn Walsh. We brought you here so that you might see reason. Clearly such a thing is not within your species scope of understanding. You throw yourselves to your death even when another option is presented to you."

"What are you doing to Ben?" she demanded from her spot next to Tom. "That's how you got the both of us here—bargaining with Ben's life? What is this 'process' you keep talking about?"

"You have not earned your answer."

"Like hell I haven't!" she exclaimed, pulling herself to her feet, this time not wobbling with disorientation. "You've captured me, kept me, cut into me, tortured me…I think I've earned my fucking answer!"

"All of those things may be true," it responded, "but the fact remains that we no longer have the incentive to give you that information. You have nothing that we want."

Evelyn wondered why she was still alive, if she didn't have anything else to offer. She jutted her chin forward and tried to look brave. "Then answer me this—what did you do to me? While I was unconscious, what did you do to me?"

"We have done nothing to you, Evelyn Walsh. You are as you always were: dying slowly and painfully."

Evelyn shook her head fervently. "Bullshit. You did something to me. What did you—"

She was cut off as something swept at her legs, causing her to fall face first onto the floor. She hit the ground with a loud grunt and all the sudden she was being prodded again by the red-eyed skitter that had reclaimed its wizard stick. She involuntarily shrank back in fear, but, whatever the device was, it did not activate.

She looked back up at the Overlord as it threw its equivalent of a smirk in her direction. "Your presence is no longer desired, Evelyn Walsh. You and your professor will be escorted elsewhere."

Evelyn scrambled to her feet and grabbed Tom under the arms, pulling him with her and praying for him to wake up. Her muscles were screeching at her to stop moving, but she ignored them to the best of her ability. The red-eyed skitter followed behind her, jabbing at her with the staff as if it was a cattle prod. She had been wondering why the skitter hadn't just killed her there in that room, what it was waiting for. Now she wondered if she hadn't died in that room because it would be too messy. That she was going to her death and dragging Tom to his in an area that was more convenient for them. If that was the case, she wished she had died in that room, or at least somewhere it would be difficult to clean.

Eventually Tom started to stir. She quickly stopped moving and crouched over his figure. The red-eyed skitter continued to poke at her with his wizard staff. She turned to face it, her eyes flashing angrily. "Will you wait one fucking second?" she growled. "He's starting to wake up."

The skitter bowed its head slightly and backed off, allowing her to see to Tom. "Hey," she said, patting his cheeks lightly. "Hey, Tom, it's time to wake up."

He groaned and pushed at her absentmindedly. Evelyn took in a big breath. "Okay, here goes nothing." And she slapped him hard across the face.

"Aargh!" screamed the formerly comatose man, jolting into awareness. Eventually his eyes seemed to focus on her face. "Evey?"

"Yeah," she said with a light laugh, "yeah, Tom, it's me."

He pushed himself into the sitting position. All of the sudden Evelyn felt herself being pulled into a tight hug. She wrapped her arms around Tom and buried her face into his shoulder. "I know I shouldn't be happy to see you here," he mumbled into her ear, "but I am."

She nodded into his shoulder. "I know. Me, too."

Soon enough she felt herself being nudged in the back again. She looked back at the skitter and it was gesturing for them to keep moving. She pried herself out of his arms and helped him to his feet, this time pulling one of his arms around her shoulders.

Evelyn shot a few sidelong glances at Tom. He seemed good enough. If he had suffered a concussion, it was mild. He brought his free hand up to the side of his face and started massaging his jaw. "Jesus, Evey," he said half laughing, "why did you have to hit me so hard?"

Evelyn looked away trying to hide her smile. "Tom," she replied in the most bureaucratic-sounding way possible, "I can assure you that it was a medical necessity."

They both started laughing. Evelyn's ribs hurt from the muscle contractions, but she didn't care. It was the first time she had really laughed in what felt like weeks. She felt the skitter prodding her in the back again, but for some reason that made her laugh even more. Maybe because it felt like an act of defiance.

Eventually the two of them fell silent until they were led into a dark room. Evelyn let out a long slow breath when the door closed, leaving her and Tom on their own.

"You know," Tom said sardonically, "it might have gone better back there if you hadn't goaded it. Being that hostile didn't really do us any favors."

Evelyn scoffed. "This coming from the guy who attacked the evil alien overlord with the electricity stick."

There was a short silence. "Fair point."

All of the sudden there was a mechanical whirring noise and the floor vibrated beneath their feet. Evelyn flinched at the sudden change. "What's happening?" she whispered anxiously.

Then one of the walls appeared to move, lowering down like an opening hatch. All the sudden Evelyn felt something hit her face. It was light, blinding light. Not that soft, pale, blue one that reminded her of Christmas tree lights that she had been exposed to for so long. It was sunlight. She had been in the dark so long that it hurt her eyes. It was almost violently hitting her retinas. Evelyn raised her hand to shield her face from the sun, only vaguely registering that Tom was doing the same.

After that it was like her brain was on autopilot. She slowly walked down the ramp that had been formed until she hit the grass below. It felt soft below her feet, even though she still had her boots on. She slowly lowered her hand, looking at the scene in front of her. It was just some grass and trees, but damn it if it wasn't the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her entire life. Evelyn started laughing that happy kind of laugh that originates from pure elation. She turned to Tom with a wide grin covering her face, but when she saw his she instantly sobered. Tom wasn't happy, he was worried. He was frantically looking in all different directions to see if anything was coming at them. And that's when it occurred to her: if you want to keep your shiny spaceship nice and clean, you drive the vermin outside before killing them.

Evelyn heard a clanking noise coming from the ship and instinctively reached for the Glock that she usually kept tucked against the small of her back in the waistband of her jeans, only to find it wasn't there. She kept her eyes trained warily on the open hatch, wondering what would come out.

It was people—about two dozen people filed out after them. They all looked confused and scared, but a little bit happy too. Tom approached them hurriedly, focusing in on a pretty woman with dark hair. Given the clothing she was wearing, she looked like resistance. "Tom Mason, 2n Mass," he said, striding toward her with Evelyn chasing after him. "I didn't know that they had anybody else."

The woman's face collapsed into a smile. "Neither did I," she said through a sigh of relief. "Bonnie Garcia, Vermont militia."

Evelyn gave an awkward, one-handed wave. "Evelyn Walsh, general pain in the ass."

Bonnie let out a weak laugh and continued talking. "The bastards wanted me to lead them to my guys, to talk them into buying this 'sanctuary' bullshit."

Tom nodded in understanding "That's why they took us, to finish what they started."

"Or to let us get to the sanctuary," Evelyn added, "and to take us all out in one fell swoop. It would be a smart maneuver. That is if any of use were stupid enough to actually buy it." She looked Bonnie up and down. "So, Vermont's still in the game?"

"Last I checked," the woman replied breathlessly.

Evelyn nodded. "Good," she said happily, "that's really good."

Evelyn looked back at the ship, trying to think of all the reasons that they would be let go. The first was that they had all been implanted with some sort of tracker and that the aliens were hoping that they would lead them back to their units, but they had been gone a long time. They probably didn't know where their units were anymore. The second was that they didn't see that group of humans and a threat and ultimately just really didn't give a damn. But the third option, which was really the first one she thought of, seemed to be the most likely. They were in an open valley with no cover. The aliens were going to kill them.

"This isn't right," she said quietly, "We need to run."

Tom jerked his head away from Bonnie to look at her. "What was that?"

"We need to run," Evelyn replied. "We need to run right now."

She looked at the two adults meaningfully. Tom nodded at Bonnie and Bonnie nodded back. "Let's move!"

Evelyn started running as fast as her tired muscles would let her. She glanced back over her shoulder and saw that she and Tom and Bonnie were the only ones running. What were the others waiting for?

Evelyn glanced behind her again and tripped on a root, bringing her crashing to the ground. Bonnie, who was close behind her, skidded to a stop to help her up. As she was being pulled to her feet, Evelyn saw that the hatch door was being closed and the ship was rising into the air. And behind it was a mech, with a skitter to instruct it. That same skitter that had tortured her, the skitter with the red eye.

She and Bonnie both froze, watching as the people behind them screamed and ran. Even after the mech started firing they just stood there, staring in horror as their comrades collapsed to the ground under the bullets of the mech. Then Evelyn heard heavy footsteps running towards her from the opposite direction. "What are you doing?" Tom shouted at the top of his lungs. "Get the hell out of there"

The sound of his voice jarred Evelyn into action. She started to run, dragging Bonnie after her. She could hear the screams and exclamations of pain as one by one the hostages fell, all the while holding Bonnie's hand and getting closer and closer to Tom's figure in the distance. She could see him glancing back over his shoulder at her, Bonnie, and the others. Ever time his eyes connected with hers, there was a little bit of relief there.

Evelyn could have been running for seconds or for hours. Whenever she was that panicked, she lost all sense of time. But whatever the time interval was, she felt Bonnie fall, dragging her to the floor as well. Evelyn wheeled around to see what had happened, only to find Bonnie staring at her with wide, unblinking eyes. She was dead.

Evelyn had met this woman only moments earlier, but somehow she felt like she knew her. She felt like Bonnie was much like herself: stubborn to the point of being rude, smart to the point of being obnoxious, and driven to the point of self-sacrifice. Evelyn wanted to cry for the beautiful, strong woman, but she pushed it aside. She could grieve later. She could grieve when she was dead, as ironic as that might sound.

Evelyn scrambled to her feet and continued to run towards the distant figure of Tom. Only this time she seemed to catch up with him a lot more easily. It was a few seconds before she realized he was standing still.

Evelyn skidded to a halt next to Tom, grabbing his hand in hers and trying to drag him after her, but he wouldn't budge. Evelyn turned to follow his gaze. He was staring at the mech and the skitter next to it. It was old Red-Eye. It was staring back at them, and it didn't fire. Evelyn and Tom both watched in shock as it turned around and left them alive.

Part of Evelyn wanted to shout out in victory, but most of her was too afraid to do that. Why had it left them alive? Why had it left her alive? Was it whatever they did to her? Was she a weapon now? She should have felt relief, but all that Evelyn could process was panic. She felt the same, but was she the same? What had they turned her into?

**A second author's note? Now you guys know how much I suck.**

**Regardless of that, I would really like to know what you think of the Tom/Evey dynamic. I wanted it to be kind of father-daughter since he knew her so well when she was a kid, but still a little distant. Did that come across well? I haven't really developed their one-on-one relationship in TSKoB, so I started with it here. I really would like to know what you think.  
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**Reviews are love and they kill skitters.  
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**Also, once again you should read the story 'From Your Lips' by LMScatterbrain. It is a seriously interesting character study.  
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**Good night...and good luck.  
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	3. Kill or Be Killed

**Hello again guys! I would just like to thank all of you for reading/reviewing/following.  
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**OK, so this chapter is really, _really_ long. Supposedly Tom was walking for about 2 months or so before finding the 2nd Mass again, so this is my rendition of that time period. I wanted to get it all into one chapter so it wouldn't drag on, but of course that just resulted in an obscenely long chapter.  
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**I worked really hard on this one, so I would seriously appreciate some reviews. I'm trying to develop a realistic Tom/Evey rapport and want to know how I'm doing.  
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******Disclaimer: Like you guys really need me to say it...I do not own Falling Skies. SPIELBERG *shakes fist* Any dialogue you recognize was taken from the show (and I hope that I'm not being too unoriginal with my storytelling, but I'm going to have it follow Season 2)**

******Photos of my OCs are on my profile (Just copy/paste the URLs and delete the spaces)  
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******I have also developed a soundtrack. It's on my profile as a different story. Chapter 1 is TSKoB and chapter 2 is ADToW.  
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Chapter Two – Kill or Be Killed (a three-month interlude)

Day Eight:

Evelyn sat at the side of the fire, poking it with a stick at intermittent intervals, trying to keep the embers alive in the dark. It was the only light she had left at the moment—she couldn't make herself trust the stars anymore. She sighed deeply and looked up at the beautiful mosaic of light that decorated the night skies. There was a time when she would have been in awe of such a sight, but now she was wary of it. She was wary of everything. You had to be when you were keeping watch.

She looked across the fire through the hissing smoke produced by the still-green wood they were burning. Tom was asleep. This was the first time she had seen him sleep without tossing and turning and mumbling to himself. Evelyn tried listening in, even though part of her felt like it was an invasion of his privacy. She couldn't hear much, but every once in a while she caught phrases like 'stay away from me' and 'what's happening to Ben'. As far as she could tell, the asleep version of Tom thought he was still on that ship.

Not that those dreams were unique to him or anything. Evelyn didn't remember much of the dreams she had, but she remembered the color blue, and she remembered pain. More than once she had awoken to Tom grabbing hold of her shoulder and shaking her. He would ask her what she was dreaming about and she would tell him the truth. She was dreaming about those extraterrestrial cattle prods that had been used on them both. But that wasn't the whole truth. Those weren't the parts of her dreams that really made her scream. The ones that terrified her didn't involve the aliens at all. The ones that scared Evelyn were about her. She didn't see much, it came in flashes, but she saw enough. She saw herself with that same blank look that covered the face of the harnessed kids and she was hurting people, the people she loved.

The first time it has been Tom. That night she had sat up suddenly, breathing heavily. She had turned to see Tom sitting there by the fire, keeping watch. He had asked her if she was okay, and then she could breathe a sight of relief. The next time it had been Maggie, only Maggie was smiling, wearing a dress, and holding a beautiful baby boy in her arms. The time after that it was Ben. She was dragging him to a troupe of skitters while he was kicking and screaming, but for some reason she was stronger than him. After that it was Amy who was yelling at her about taking Ben. The last time it had been Hal. She gave him to Karen, and Karen's face had borne the most unsettling smile Evelyn had ever seen, asleep or awake.

Evelyn sighed and poked at the fire again, sending small sparks flying up towards the sky. She hadn't told Tom yet, about the dreams or about what the skitters had probably done to her. Part of her hoped that the Overlord had been telling the truth, that it hadn't done anything to her. When that mech opened fire on the survivors part of her believed that she was fine—why would they try to kill her if she was of any use to them? But then the red-eyed skitter had so obviously let them live, her and Tom. What was the use in that? Were they being tracked back to the 2nd Mass? Was she some kind of sleeper agent that would activate and kill everybody? She felt like herself now, neurotic and overprotective of her friends, but the point of a sleeper agent was that they seemed perfectly normal until they suddenly weren't. Could those dreams she had been having be some sort of symptom? One thing was for sure, she would have to tell Tom when he woke up.

It had been a little over a week since they managed to get out of that ship. Since then they had managed to get themselves packs, canteens, some canned food, sleeping bags, and, of course, a few guns.

Evelyn thought back to that first night that they were on their own, without food, water, supplies, shelter, or weapons. Luckily it had rained recently, so she went around to all those concave leaves and slurped any water she could get from them. Tom initially seemed very confused by what it was that she was doing, but soon enough he caught on and emulated her. The two of them didn't talk much that day. They were probably still in shock. By the time night fell they hadn't managed to find any food, but at least they weren't dying of thirst.

Evelyn had managed to find enough dry wood and kindling to start a fire. She remembered sitting by that fire with two branches in her hands, using one of them to scrape the other one into a fine, sharp point. She had felt Tom's eyes on her while she sat there, scraping and scraping the wood.

"Where did you learn to do all this?" he had asked her.

"Girl scouts," she replied.

But Tom had not seemed satisfied. "They teach you how to make weapons in Girl Scouts?"

Evelyn remembered that look on his face as he stared across the fire at her. It was somewhere between pity and concern. She sighed and looked Tom in the eye. "You were with the 2nd Mass from the beginning, right? Since the start of the invasion?" He nodded yes. Evelyn bit her lip and nodded dumbly before continuing. "Well I wasn't. For the first month or so, before I joined up with the 7th Mass, I was on my own. It's different when you're on you own. Less _The Three Musketeers_ and more_ Lord of the Flies_. You can't be nice, you can't be polite. You have to worry about the other humans just as much as you have to worry about the skitters. Maybe more, even. Everyone's got a looter's mentality. So at least for the time being, we have to be uncivilized."

At that point she had seen a dark look pass over Tom's face, like he was judging her. "You're saying that to survive we have to rob people? To compromise their ability to survive for our own benefit?"

At that Evelyn laughed mirthlessly. "No, Tom. I'm not expecting you to abandon your character traits any more than I abandoned mine when I was alone. The point is that we have to assume that everyone else is out to get us. Until we get back to the 2nd Mass, paranoia is fundamental to our survival. It's Hobbes versus Locke out here in the wild, and guess who wins that philosophical battle."

At that the angry creases had seemed to fade from his face a bit. "Locke believed that, in the absence of government man is fundamentally good while Hobbes believed man to be fundamentally selfish."

"That's right, Professor Mason," Evelyn said with a smirk, "and I know from practical experience that Hobbes was the winner in that little debate."

"It's almost like you took my class or something." Then Tom laughed a bit and rubbed his forehead in contemplation. "You know, Evey," he said through a laugh, "you never cease to surprise me. A lot of the time I forget how old you are."

"Believe me," she replied bitterly, "sometimes I forget myself."

The next morning she had managed to skewer a squirrel. It was a lucky shot really, but she let Tom be impressed. Later that day they had found a road, and that road led them to a town, and in that town there was a grocery store and a sporting good store. The grocery store was a bust, so she raided houses instead while Tom looked for a map. Evelyn felt like he would have some sort of moral qualms about taking for people's homes, so she let him skip that part. She had learned a long time ago that those kind of scruples would take you by the hand and lead you to an early grave. But Tom had somehow managed to maintain his inflexible sense of honor and morality, a remarkable feat in the world they lived in, so she certainly wasn't going to ruin it for him. Eventually squirrel was replaced with cans and that sharp stick was replaced with two guns and a crossbow.

After that first town, Concord, Vermont, they managed to haul themselves out of the woods both literally and figuratively. It turns out the alien ship had dropped them off on the other side of the Vermont border. So they walked. And they walked. And they walked. For the most part they managed to sleep in houses as they moved, but tonight they were on one of those long stretches of land between cities, so they pulled together some beds of pine needles and took their shifts.

Evelyn looked past the tree line. The sky was starting to turn a pale blue color tinged with yellow, the same as it did every morning. Another hour or so and they would be moving on again. She yawned and rubbed at her eyes with the base of her hands. She was so tired. They both were. Neither of them had gotten more than five hours of sleep a day since they left that ship, but they had to keep watch.

Soon enough Evelyn was stamping out the fire and walking around to shake Tom awake. It took a few minutes, but he eventually opened his bleary eyes.

"Good morning," he said, stretching a bit.

"Hardly," Evelyn shot back. She reached out an arm for him to take and hauled him to his feet.

The rest of the morning was fairly typical. They ate straight out of their cans and tossed them aside. Evelyn gave Tom a lecture on littering before tossing hers aside as well. Then they grabbed their packs and kept walking down that highway. Usually they walked in a comfortable silence, occasionally bringing in some light conversation or discussing appropriate directions every once in a while, but this time the silence was distinctly uncomfortable. Evelyn could see Tom stealing glances at her out of the corner of her eye. Initially she tried to ignore it, but it had become too awkward. She took a breath. "Is there something you wanted to ask me, Tom?"

Tom shot her a sheepish smile. "It's just—it's just something that's been bothering me for a while, since we left the ship." He cleared his throat. "While we were in the room with the Overlord it said something about you being already dead, and you didn't contradict it. I just wanted to know what it was that it was talking about."

Evelyn sighed and kicked at some of the debris that littered the road. "You're not going to let it go until I break, are you?"

"No," Tom replied, "no I don't think I will."

"Alright then." Evelyn couldn't look him in the eye when she told him, so she opted for her boots instead. "I kinda sorta have a brain tumor."

She heard Tom stop short, but she continued walking a few steps before turning back to face him. When she finally looked at his face it was completely blank. His voice was low and harsh when he spoke. "Evelyn, that's not funny."

She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "It's not a joke." She lifted her finger and pointed to her head. "It's been in there since I was about twelve. Never could quite shake it."

Tom got really quiet and just stared at her. Evelyn shifted under his gaze, laughing awkwardly and scratching at the back of her neck. "This is some tension that could be cut with a knife," she said studying the asphalt beneath her feet

When he finally spoke again, he sounded a bit betrayed. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

She brought her eyes up to look at him again. "Would there have been a point?"

Tom took a few steps towards her. He was giving her his 'dad look', the one with the puppy dog eyes and the heart-melting expression of concern. "I could have helped you," he said in a low voice. "Anne could have helped you. We could've—we could've—"

"Could've done what?" Evelyn asked with a sad smile. "Anne is a remarkable doctor, she's done wonders with the 2nd Mass, but she's not a neurosurgeon. And even if she was, you can't exactly do brain surgery in the back of that Winnebago. The only thing telling people would accomplish is making them worry about me. Or worse, pity me."

"How long do you have?" he asked. His voice broke when he asked, like he was fighting off tears.

"About five years. More like four and a half now."

Tom strode forward quickly and pulled her into a tight hug. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I'm so sorry."

Evelyn squeezed tight, and made sure there was a big smile on her face when she pulled back. "Hey, it's okay," she said straightening jacket. "We've all got to check out some time, and I've lasted longer than a lot of other people. I'm one of the lucky ones. Now let's get you back to your boys. And to Anne. It's kind of rude to kiss a woman and never call her again."

That made Tom smile a bit. "You saw that, huh?"

Evelyn nodded sharply. "Yes I did, and I was scarred for life."

They walked in silence for a while longer until Tom turned to her again. "Does Hal know?"

"Yeah. Hal knows."

They didn't talk for a while after that. After you drop such a gigantic information bomb, there really isn't much of anything for you to say. Evelyn wanted to talk and joke and make everything okay with Tom, but he didn't look like he was ready for that. Evelyn had come to terms with her fate, she really had. But that was why she hated telling people so much. They started to mourn her while she was still alive. She became a walking corpse, and in her opinion she was way to pretty to be a zombie.

Evelyn decided not to tell Tom about her experience with the skitters that day. She figured that if she dropped another information bomb, his head might explode. Maybe she was using the whole situation as an excuse, but it was a pretty damn good excuse.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Day Twenty-Six

Three weeks of walking, and Evelyn had come to the conclusion that her boots were not made for it. She and Tom had walked what felt like hundreds of miles, and Tom kept that wrinkled map clutched in his hand the whole time like it was his lifeline. There still over a hundred miles from Boston. And they still hadn't managed to find a functional car.

Boston. That was the thin string of hope that Tom was clinging to, but she didn't believe in it. Not really. To her it was a pipe dream, some idea Tom had built up and romanticized in his head. It must have been at least two months since that night the structure exploded, the night she and Tom had been taken. The 2nd Mass could be anywhere. But Boston made sense on some level. It was a starting point, the place from which they could set out and find their friends. The problem was that right now it was beginning to look like the finish line, and Evelyn felt that, when they finally got there and found nothing, Tom might break. Anyway, they didn't talk about those kind of things. Despair was a taboo topic.

Evelyn was starting to get worried. They were beginning to run out of food, and Tom looked like he was ready to drop from the exhaustion. But they kept walking along that train line. It wasn't all bad though. It was a hell of a lot better than making that trek alone. So far they hadn't seen a single other living soul. They had seen a few dead ones, and Evelyn always had to steel her nerves before going into the houses for fear of what she would find, but no other living person had crossed their path. It would have been like solitary confinement. Evelyn was used to loneliness, but going through that trek alone…..To her it would have been even worse that staying on that ship. At least there she would have had the intermittent pain to remind her that she was alive.

Walking down that train line was strange. Evelyn used to make jokes about how they were all living in some dystopian post-apocalyptic Spielberg movie, but those weeks were the first time she had actually felt that way. She felt like it was the noise. There always used to be noise. Right after the invasion there was the screaming and yelling and breaking glass that she could always hear. It wasn't comforting, but it was there. When she joined up with the resistance, there was always someone talking or a car revving. But now, except for the sound of dirt and gravel crunching beneath her and Tom's feet, there was nothing. For the first time, it really felt like the world was dead. Or maybe _she_ was dead and this was Hell, Purgatory, Jahannam, Naraka, or whichever version turned out to be right. But then again, if that were the case it wouldn't make much sense that Tom was there with her.

Regardless of the circumstances, tough, she and Tom did their best to keep moral up. He would tell her an endless number of stories about the past. Half the time the trip was like one giant history lesson. She had joked that, by the time they got back to the 2nd Mass, he should give her an honorary degree. He had laughed at that. And that had made her happy, because Tom didn't seem to be laughing all that much lately. There was another time when they found a car. It hadn't worked, but in the passenger's seat the two of them found a duffel with about five million dollars packed inside. That night they had used the money as kindling for their fire while Evelyn skipped around it screaming, "We are the 99%!" at the top of her lungs. That had been a good night. But that was a few days ago now, and neither of them had really laughed, or even smiled, since that night.

Maybe things had seemed so sad because of the guilt. Evelyn was feeling really, really guilty. It was this unsettled sensation that seemed to be creeping into the marrow of her bones and working its way into the depths of her soul. She still hadn't told Tom about her neck, and whatever had been put there, but she figured hat now wasn't really the time to. It didn't really matter when it was just the two of them. What harm could she really do? She would tell him when she got to the 2nd Mass. Until then she would leave the status quo as it was. She knew it was wrong, that she was trying to rationalize away her obligation, but she couldn't make herself admit it just yet. Maybe that was why she had started overcompensating with lame attempts at humor. If she lightened Tom's mood a little, maybe she might not feel as guilty.

"Are we there yet?" Evelyn whined in her most childlike voice. She was walking on the rails of the track, placing one foot in front of the other with her arms outstretched to keep her balanced.

Tom sighed and readjusted the pack on his shoulder and kept walking down the tracks. "Evey, I know you're trying to be funny and everything, but that really isn't helping our situation."

"I don't know Tom," she said lightly, hopping off the rail and walking next to him. "I think we should make this as much like an authentic good-old American family road trip as possible. Sure we're missing the car, the snacks, the obnoxious road songs, and a shared genetic code, but that doesn't mean that we can't play make-believe. Come on! let's go see the world's largest ball of yarn! It's only a four month detour in the opposite direction."

Tom scratched the back of his head and chuckled a bit. "I don't know, I'd rather hold out for the world's largest rocking chair."

"Look at you making jokes," Evelyn said, poking him in the shoulder. She shoved her hands in her pockets and hal-walked, half-skipped down the tracks. "You know my parents took me on a road trip once. All the five star hotels on the Eastern Seaboard. My mom went shopping and my dad played golf. They usually left me in the suite with a remote and a couple of books."

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head in disbelief. "You want to know a secret?"

"Always."

"I never liked your parents."

Evelyn's face broke out in a large smile. "Well what do you know? Neither did I. In fact, you and Mrs. Mason were the closest thing I had to parents."

"Well then," Tom said matter-of-factly, "I guess we did a good job."

Evelyn smiled and kept walking in silence. What Tom said had made her feel a bit better, but she couldn't quite shake a small feeling of disappointment. It was there whenever she thought about the Masons. All of her happy childhood memories came from them. Some of them were vicarious and some of them had actually happened, but they all tied back to the Masons. They were her family, always had been, even when they stopped talking for round about five years. They were her family, but she wasn't theirs. They had their family, and she was a hanger-on, an interloper. Maybe a well-liked and appreciated interloper, a confidante even, but when it came down to it she was unnecessary. The Masons could go on living their lives without her, and they would be just fine. She should probably think of that as a good thing seeing as she came with an expiration date. Part of her, a small part, felt bitter, but a larger part of her just became all that much more determined to get Tom back. That family had to stay together. It was the closest thing to hope that there was in this sorry excuse for a world.

Evelyn looked out at the railroad tracks in front of her, kicking that one annoying rock as she walked. Everything looked washed out and grey. Like that city they had gone through a few days earlier. There were broken down buildings, abandoned cars, and everything looked like it had been covered in thick layer of ash. Everything just seemed so…broken. And now Tom was beginning to match the surroundings. His skin was turning the same ashen color as the background he was set against. She could tell by the way that his shoulders sagged and by the way that he dragged his feet that something was wrong. And she knew he's never admit it, especially to himself.

Tom looked so tired, so very, very tired. She was too, but it seemed to be a different kind of tired. Her eyes itched and she yawned and she really wanted to sleep, but physically she felt fine. Her muscles didn't seem to protest against walking a little bit further, no matter how far it was that they went. Tom on the other hand looked ready to trek was really taking a toll on him, but he just kept going. When the sun started going down she knew they had to stop.

"Tom," she said quietly, putting a tentative hand on his shoulder, "Tom, I think it's time to pack it in. It's getting late."

Tom shook his head almost manically. "No. No, we've got to keep moving. I've got to get back to my boys."

Evelyn put a hand on his shoulder. "Tom, you need to sleep."

His shoulders sagged. "Okay. Okay, you're right."

"Alright then," she said, pushing him down into a sitting position. "I'll take first watch."

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Day Fifty-Two

It was her turn to keep watch again. Evelyn usually took the second watch. She'd never tell Tom, of course, but she always let him have one extra hour of sleep. Every night he would take off his watch to warm his hands by the fire—Mrs. Mason had given it to him and he didn't want to damage it—and every night she would change it so that it read one hour ahead. Then, while he was asleep, she would change it back. If he ever caught on to what she was doing, he never let her know. Which, of course, meant that he really hadn't caught on. Because if he had he would have been very, very angry with her. Not that she would have cared anyway. For some reason the trip just didn't seem to affect her as much as it affected him.

The rest of the day started off with the same formula as any other. Step 1: she shakes Tom awake. Step 2: they stamp out the fire and eat breakfast. Step 3: they start walking. It wasn't much of a formula. It was straightforward. Perform the necessary functions to keep you alive and then keep going. So they did the same thing they did very day. They kept going.

Most of the day had been the same as any other. They were interchangeable, really. Except, for some reason, that day _was_ different. It was different because that day they heard other people.

They were still walking down those railroad tracks, only that portion of the tracks was leading through a city. As usual, cities depressed her. It wasn't so much the lack of people—she felt that everywhere—it was the destruction. Buildings were falling apart, bridges were collapsed, cars were burnt out or overturned, to her it felt like a mockery of human ingenuity. It was like the universe was sticking its tongue out at her and saying "look how easy it was for everything to fall apart." The whole situation made Evelyn feel incredibly insubstantial. But ultimately her insecurities didn't matter because, for once, something else was going on.

Evelyn and Tom were walking down the railroad tracks, as they would be any other day, but then they heard the sounds of a struggle coming from the other side of a massive industrial pipe.

"Let me go!" a young girl was screaming.

"Quit struggling!" an older man said.

Evelyn ran through all the scenarios in her head. Some were bad, most were worse, and none of them were good. The girl kept screaming, as did the man. And Evelyn distinctly hear the words "If you don't let go of that bag, I will shoot you."

She and Tom looked at each other for half a second before running off to intervene. Evelyn was about to round the pipe to help the girl when she noticed the crumpled figure of a woman lying on the ground. It hadn't been there long, the skin still had some color in it.

"You go and help the girl," she whispered quickly, "I'll try and help her."

Tom nodded and took of running and Evelyn collapsed on her knees next to the body. She turned the woman onto her back and quickly checked for injuries. It didn't take her long to find one. The pale blue paisley pattern of the woman's shirt was stained with bright crimson blood. It was the brightest color that Evelyn had seen in a long, long time.

Evelyn quickly pulled at the shirt, ripping off some of the buttons at its base, and wiped at the blood that was pooling on the woman's abdomen, partly using the corners of the shirt she had just pried open and mostly using her hands. She kept wiping and wiping, but the blood kept coming and soon enough Evelyn noticed that the woman's chest had stopped moving. She checked for breath. Nothing. She checked for a pulse. Nothing. Evelyn quickly straddled the woman and folded her hands over her chest, starting compressions. But it was useless. She had known it was useless before she had even started. She had none of the proper supplies, no way to stop the bleeding. It was a lost cause. But she had to at least try. She always had to try.

Soon enough Evelyn stopped the compressions. She took a deep breath and pushed her hair back of her forehead. She could feel the woman's blood smearing into her hairline, but she couldn't seem to make herself care.

Once the blood stopped pumping in her ears, she could hear the sounds of a physical altercation. One of the voices belonged to Tom. Evelyn quickly pushed herself to her feet and followed him around that big pipe. There she could see Tom and another man struggling on the ground. They had both lost their guns and the other man was making a move to grab his. Tom had him by the legs and looked like he was trying to pull the other man back, but was not succeeding.

Evelyn reached behind her back and pulled out the Colt that was tucked in the waistband of her pants. She threw the safety off, cocked it, and fired one shot into the air. The sound reverberated and echoed through the area, causing everybody but her to jump and look in her direction. She brought the gun down so it was level with the strange man's head. Evelyn decided that his name was Jethro.

Evelyn leveled the man with her most hostile stare. "If you want to live," she said in the most casual way possible, "you'll be leaving now. Pretty please."

Jethro ran away as quickly as possible. Evelyn looked over at Tom. He was bent over at the waist and breathing heavily. "You okay?" she asked.

Tom just waved his hand aimlessly. She took that as a yes. They were all quiet for a moment while Tom caught his breath. Evelyn glanced around the area, taking in her surroundings. She noticed that there was a car nearby, vintage. The driver's side door was open and the keys were in the ignition. She let out a sigh of disbelief. Finally, a functional car.

She glanced back at the girl they had just saved. She was tired, dirty, and scared, but none of that was exactly unique. But there was this look in her eye. She looked like an animal that had been backed into a corner and was deciding whether or not to lash out.

Tom picked up his hand and glanced back at the girl. She seemed to shrink under his gaze. He emptied out his gun and looked at her poignantly. "My name is Tom." When the girl didn't respond he raised his hands in a gesture of submission. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said walking backwards slowly. "I just want to get a look at your car."

And then the girl launched herself at him, kicking and screaming. "No, it's mine! I'm not letting you steal it!"

Evelyn ran forwards and wrapped her arms around the girl's middle, pulling her backwards and away from Tom while she continued to thrash and kick. They fell backwards onto the ground, but Evelyn kept hold of her "Hey," she whispered into the girl's ear, "hey, it's okay. We're not going to steal anything. It's yours."

The girl continued to squirm in Evelyn's arms, but it was half-hearted. Evelyn could feel the small body shaking with silent sobs. She continued to make soft shushing noises in the girl's ear as her attempts got weaker and weaker. Eventually Evelyn let her go and she scrambled away and collapsed into a pile of tears.

Tom grabbed the girl's bag and brought it back to her. "I'm sorry about the car, I should have asked. I'm not going to hurt you," he said. His voice almost sounded pleading. "If he comes back we don't want to be here."

The girl glared at them both through her tears. "We have a few cans of soup, that's all! Go ahead, take it and leave me alone!"

Tom silently continued forward and handed her the bag. She grabbed it and backed away suspiciously. Then Evelyn went into her back and grabbed two cans of black beans, tossing them to the girl. She didn't move to pick them up. She just stared at Evelyn with wide eyes.

Tom moved back to stand next to Evelyn. In that moment she realized that she was covered in blood and probably made terrifying portrait. Tom put his hand on her shoulder and then turned back to the scared girl. "We're on our way to Boston," he said steadily. "We left some people there. Friends and family that could help us. The car is yours, but it could really help us out and we would love to borrow it. You could come with us."

"Boston?" the girl said carefully. "That's hundreds of miles."

Evelyn laughed slightly and scratched the back of her head. "So you can see why we'd rather not walk. We've been on foot for about a month and a half now."

"So," Tom said with a hopeful expression on his face, "what do you say?"

The girl's face screwed up in thought. She looked between Tom and Evelyn with determination etched across her face. "Just remember it's a loan. And only for as long as I say." She glanced back at the woman lying on the ground. "And only if you don't leave her like that."

Evelyn let out a sad sigh. "I wasn't going to do that either way." Evelyn walked towards the body of the woman and closed the eyes. Soon she heard footsteps coming up behind her.

Evelyn looked over her shoulder. The girl was staring, her gaze shifting between her and the body rapidly. Evelyn glanced back at the body and realized that there was a dark red blood stain over the heart where she had tried to do CPR.

The girl stood there silent for a while and then looked at Evelyn again with a question in her eyes. "You—you tried to save her?"

Evelyn exhaled sharply and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I tried. It wasn't enough though. I'm sorry I couldn't help her." The girl didn't say anything else. She just stood there staring. Evelyn sighed and stood up. "My name's Evelyn," she said, slowly approaching the girl. "What's your name?"

"Meghan." The response was so quiet she almost didn't hear it.

Evelyn knelt next to Meghan and put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Meghan." Then she pulled Meghan into a tight hug. It didn't take long before the girl's arms were around her neck and she was crying into her shoulder.

They didn't leave that night. It was nighttime when they finally managed to bury the woman. Her name was Martha. Evelyn and Tom sat around another fire. Meghan was asleep next to the cross Tom had fixed out of two branches.

Evelyn fiddled idly with the dog tags that were still around her neck, the one that was her own, the one Max got on his first tour, and Teddy's. Evelyn usually tried not to think about Teddy that much, it always made her feel guilty. But somehow, whenever things got really quiet, he managed to creep back into her mind.

Teddy. He had died because of her, because he was helping her. He had died because he loved her, and in her opinion that was an incredibly stupid reason to die. Especially since she hadn't had it in her to love him back. Most days it felt like she killed him, but then he would appear in her mind and tell her off for thinking something like that. For some inexplicable reason that smiling idiot had managed to work his way into her mind and become some sort of manifestation of her conscience. That was a lie. There was a perfectly good explanation for how he had managed that. He was just such a good person, it was infuriating really. And now the Teddy in her brain was looking at her expectantly, and she knew why.

Evelyn took a deep breath and looked across the fire. "Hey, Tom?" He looked up at her. "I, um—I have something I need to tell you. About while we were on the ship."

He blinked at her, waiting. "What is it, Evey?"

Evelyn pulled at her hair nervously, hoping he didn't hate her for what she said next. "I think—I think they might have done something to me."

"They did something to both of us, Evey," he said bitterly. "They tortured us."

Evelyn shook her head quickly. "That's not what I meant." Tom looked at her curiously. She bit her lip and continued. "I think they may have done something to my brain." Before he could ask she walked around the fire quickly and grabbed his hand, bringing it to the back of her neck. "Feel that? There used to be a scar there, but now it's gone and there's something right below the surface of the skin."

Tom stared at her in disbelief. They were there, looking at each other, for a long time. The only sound was the crackling of the fire. Eventually Tom spoke "What does this mean, Evey?"

She rubbed her eyes and leaned back in her seat. "I think it means I can't go back."

"No," Tom responded instantly, shaking his head so fast she was afraid it might fall off. "No, it doesn't mean that. I've been here with you for almost two months now and you haven't acted any differently. You're still you."

"But what if one day I wake up and I'm not me?" Evelyn asked. Her words caught in her throat. She was on the verge of breaking down to tears. "What if one day I wake up and start hurting people? You, Hal, Maggie, Ben, Amy—I've been having these nightmares, and what if they come true? I can't let that happen Tom, I just can't."

Tom grabbed her hand and squeezed hard. "I don't care about maybes. There might not be anything wrong with you, and if there is even the slightest chance that that is the case, then you are not going anywhere."

Evelyn drove her fingers into her hair and pulled at it. "You know that doesn't make any sort of sense, Tom. I'm a liability now. I should have told you earlier. Who knows what could have happened over the past few weeks? They could have made me kill you."

Tom pulled her into a one armed hug. "It doesn't matter. You're family, and families stick together. We're both going back. Both of us."

They didn't say anything else. They just sat there watching the fire. Family. Evelyn couldn't help but smile at that. For the first time in her life, she was part of a family.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Day Fifty-Four:

They hadn't left that car in over three days, her, Tom, and Meg. They ate in there, slept in there, and hardly ever stopped. Tom was behind the wheel of the car and Evelyn was in the passenger's seat. She sank low in her seat and pressed her feet against the dashboard, curling up as much as possible. She was cold, really, really cold. They weren't running the heater so they wouldn't waste any kind of gas.

Evelyn glanced into the rearview mirror. Meg was stretched out on the back seat, fast asleep. The girl seemed to be sleeping a lot lately. Tom said it was because she was young and still growing, but Evelyn had a different theory. Meg slept because dreaming was a better alternative to staying awake. The little girl hadn't told them anything about the woman that they buried other than that her name was Martha, but Evelyn suspected that there was a lot more to tell.

The road in front of them was treacherous. Tom had to weave slowly and carefully between the abandoned cars and over the chunks of brick and rock that were scattered everywhere. By the end of this little adventure the cars undercarriage would look absolutely terrible. Evelyn snorted a bit when she realized that this was as close to that family road trip she had joked about as any of them would ever get. It wasn't as uplifting as she thought it would be.

Down the road she saw a sign. It read 'Welcome to Boston!" Evelyn decided that the exclamation point was ironic. Soon enough after that the walls of trees gave way to walls of concrete and brick. And there, looming above the city, was that damned structure. The thing was still there. It was empty and useless, but she hated it as much as ever. Tom pulled to the side of the road and climbed out of the car. Evelyn took a deep breath. He was strategizing again, and he always seemed to get a little bit irrational, twitchy even. Evelyn reached over the back seat and shook Meg's shoulder. "Hey," she whispered quietly, "it's time to wake up."

Meg groaned a bit and they both followed Tom at the car. Evelyn tossed Meg one of their cans of soup and then headed towards Tom. In one hand he was holding a map and the other one was at the back of his head, scratching nervously like he always did when he was anxious.

"Schools only a few miles that way," he said, pointing down the road.

Evelyn came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Tom, you know they're not going to be there anymore. Last we knew the mechs were bearing down on us. They've got to be long gone by now."

"Yeah," he replied, nodding his head weakly, "yeah, I know." Then he began fiddling with the map, unfolding it and spinning it around in his hands. "But I've been seeing a lot of airships heading southwest to Connecticut. Could be they went that way."

Evelyn shoved her hands in her pockets and took a deep breath. "Well," she said rocking back on her heels, "it's the best lead we've got. Plus I hear Connecticut is beautiful this time of year."

The two of them stood there silent for a while, staring at the structure that had taken up so much of their lives. Evelyn bit her lip. It was strange to look at it. She felt like it had happened yesterday and like it had happened years ago all at the same time. It was like she was in a trance. She couldn't make herself look away from it, until a small voice interrupted her reverie.

"You know that woman we buried?"

Evelyn spun around to look at Meg. She was sitting on the hood of the car and eating from that can of soup with her bare hands. It was the first she had spoken in hours, and she still couldn't look Tom or Evelyn in the eye. "What about her?" Evelyn asked quietly

Meg took a few more scoops of food before speaking again. "It was my mom."

Evelyn's mouth open and shut a few times, but she couldn't find the right words. All Tom could muster up was, "I'm sorry."

Meg kept staring at the can. "You never told me why you helped me out with that guy."

"Because that's what people are supposed to do," was the answer Tom had on the tip of his tongue. Evelyn sighed heavily. His idealism never ceased to amaze. Tom always seemed to expect the best from people. But the way she saw it, if you were constantly expected the best, you were constantly getting disappointed.

"Not anymore," Meg said quickly.

"I don't believe that," Tom responded, "and I hope that somebody would do the same for my kids."

But Meg still looked skeptical. Evelyn walked towards the car and sat down on the hood. She bought her knees to her chest and stared out at the road in front of her. "Look, Meg." She paused for a breath. "The way I see it is that these days you have to suspect everybody. Be wary of them because they might be out to hurt you like that man was. But you have to hold yourself to a different standard. Just because they've let all this change them doesn't mean that you have to change too. Protect yourself, but don't lose yourself. That's what I've got to say on the matter. It's not much, but it's all I got."

Meg was quiet for a moment. Her leg was tapping nervously. "We were going into the mountains, me and my mom. Trying to find a place to hide."

Tom sighed and shoved the map into his rucksack. "I don't think we can hide from them anymore. Not really. All we've got is each other now. My middle son, Ben, he's about your age. You'd like him."

"He's dead," Meg spat bitterly. "They're all dead. That's what happens now, the aliens find you and they kill you."

Evelyn shook her head. "If that's what you really think, Meg, then you're dead already. We all are. I, for one, plan on living and fighting back for as long as I can. That's what Tom and I do. That's what our friends do. We fight back and we kill them first."

Tom took a swig of water from his canteen. "Come on, we've got to keep going."

They continued to drive on in silence. Evelyn kept taking looks back at Meg in the mirror. The girl's arms were folded across her chest and her lower lip caught in her teeth. She looked like she was thinking hard about something, but Evelyn couldn't tell what. But whatever it was she clearly didn't want to be disturbed.

The sun lowered at the horizon, casting a cold light over the landscape. The shadows it cast looked menacing. Soon enough it was dark out and they had made there way into another city. All the sudden she heard something that made her heart jump out of her chest.

"Tom, stop the car," she whispered.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "What was that, Evey?"

"I said stop the car," she ordered more forcefully.

"Why should I—"

But Evelyn didn't wait for the question. She reached her leg over the console that divided her seat from Tom's and slammed it down hard on the brake, bringing the car to a skidding halt. She lurched forward in her seat, gasping in pain as the seatbelt dug into her flesh. As soon as the car stopped, she unbuckled and threw herself out the door, ignoring the protests of her two companions. She stood in that otherwise empty street, eyes darting around like a wild animal. She could hear the sound of the car door opening as Tom followed her. "Evey, what the hell was that?" he demanded angrily.

Evelyn held a hand up, effectively silencing him. "Listen," she said quietly. "Tell me what you hear."

Tom walked up next to her. His eyes were squinting with effort while he tried to hear what she heard, that electronic pinging sound. "That's—that's mech fire. And it's close."

Another car door opened and Meg stuck her head out. "This is bad! I don't want to be here anymore!"

Tom seemed to ignore her, listening harder. Another shot went off. He spun around and looked at Meg. "That was a shotgun. That means there's people. You can drive off, come back when it's safe."

But Meg was shaking her head as she climbed out the car, slamming the door shut. "I said earlier that it was just a loan. My mom wanted to show me the mountains. I'm going there." She rounded the car and grabbed her sack out of the back and tossed it towards Tom and Evelyn. "That's for her." She looked between the two of them. "I hope you find your families. I really do."

She was about to climb in the driver's seat when Evelyn called after her. "Meg—Meg wait!" Evelyn grabbed the bag and walked back towards the car, thrusting it into her arms. "You're going to need this more than us." Then she reached around her back pulling out the Colt that had been there for the past few months. She grabbed it by the barrel and held it out. "This too."

Meg took the gun wordlessly. She nodded once in thanks and then climbed into car and drove away. It wasn't much of a goodbye, but it was an honest one.

Evelyn ran back to Tom. "You think that's really them?" she asked breathlessly.

As if the universe wanted to give them an answer, a harsh, gravelly voice sounded out in the distance. "We've got eight minutes tops before those airships respond! Let's go, go, go!"

She heard Tom suck in an audible breath. "Weaver?"

And then he took off running. Evelyn had no choice but to follow him. "Tom," she hissed loudly, "Tom we have to be careful."

They ran towards the noise through the labyrinth of debris. Evelyn suddenly became very aware that she didn't have a gun anymore. The tow of them pressed against the wall of one of the buildings and took careful glances around the corner. There was a skitter there that had it's back to them. It was looking around the corner at something else. Before Evelyn knew what was happening Tom had raised his gun and taken a shot. The skitter wheeled around to look at them both and Tom launched himself at it.

"Shit, shit, shit," she chanted under her breath while her eyes roved around her immediate area for something that could even remotely resemble a weapon. Her eyes settled on a broken piece of pipe. It wasn't much, but it was all she had. Evelyn took one steadying breath. "Here goes nothing," she muttered to herself before rounding the corner.

Tom was wrestling with the skitter like it was some sort of bizarre cage match. He had lost his gun and didn't look like he was fairing all that well. The skitter through him against the wall with a sickening crunch. The skitter started to move into the street, but Tom got up and threw himself at it again. This time the skitter grabbed Tom around his neck and lifted him into the air. Evelyn flipped the pipe in her hand so the pointy, ragged end was facing upward. And then she ran as fast as she could. She ducked under the skitter's outstretched arm, moving herself between it and Tom and pushed her arm upward, slamming the pipe into the skitters skull with as much force as she could muster. A kind of primal scream erupted from her mouth as she dragged the skitter into the street with Tom stumbling after her.

All of the sudden she hear shots go off. Three of them. She let go of the skitter and let it crumple to the ground. When it fell out of view, she saw two figures with guns advancing towards them. She squinted to get a better look. It was Ben and Hal.

She heard Hal's voice echo across the street. "Evey? Dad?"

A relieved laugh burbled out of Evelyn's throat. She looked back at Tom with a huge smile on her face. But Tom wasn't smiling. He was doubled over with a thick, red stain covering his abdomen. Evelyn felt her hand move to her own abdomen. It was wet and sticky. She slowly looked down, and saw blood. She turned back to Hal and Ben with a sad, disbelieving expression on her face. Her eyes connected with Hal's, and when they did she saw his wide grin falter. "Evey?"

"Hey Hal," she whispered back, wondering if he could actually hear her, "long time no see."

Evelyn crumpled to the ground. She could vaguely hear footsteps moving towards her and somebody was yelling. Something lifted her off the ground and a hand was running through her hair. She couldn't really register what was happening.

Evelyn had lost consciousness many times in her life. Probably too many times to be considered healthy. It was always the same, things would get blurry and fade to black. But this time—this time was different. Everything faded to white.

**Another cliffhanger! Sorry you guys, but for some reason it always feels logical for me to end a chapter on a cliffhanger. It feels like a good transition point to me.**

**Anywho, please review and tell me what you think. Reviews are love and give nosebleeds to the alien Overlords.  
**


	4. I'm in Here

**Hello again guys! I would just like to thank all of you for reading/reviewing/following.  
**

**This is a bit of a filler chapter, but I think it was necessary for transition and timeline stuf and reintroduction of some characters.  
**

******Disclaimer: Like you guys really need me to say it...I do not own Falling Skies. SPIELBERG *shakes fist* Any dialogue you recognize was taken from the show (and I hope that I'm not being too unoriginal with my storytelling, but I'm going to have it follow Season 2)**

******Photos of my OCs are on my profile (Just copy/paste the URLs and delete the spaces)  
**

******I have also developed a soundtrack. It's on my profile as a different story. Chapter 1 is TSKoB and chapter 2 is ADToW.**

Chapter 3 – I'm in Here

She was being taken somewhere. She knew she was being taken somewhere. She could feel the wind moving through her hair as she moved. But who was taking her and where were they taking her? What were they taking her for? What was happening? She knew she was forgetting something, something important, but she didn't know what. She couldn't think. She kept trying to think but there was someone on the other side of that door and no matter how much she pushed and pushed it just wouldn't open. They wouldn't let her in, they wouldn't let her see what was happening. She must have been upside down because her hair seemed to be standing straight on her head, and that just didn't make any kind of sense. But then why was she upside down? That didn't make any kind of sense either.

She tried to lift her head to see what was going on, but for some reason she couldn't, she just couldn't. Her eyes were open, but everything was a deep, dark black, like someone had spilled ink on a picture and blotted out all the pretty bits, the smiling faces and happy eyes. Fear stabbed through her. The stars were gone. The aliens had come here and they had taken the stars away. They took everything on earth and now they wanted the stars too. But where did they all go, where did the aliens put them? She was so cold. Maybe it was because they had taken the sun away and everything was cold now.

"Hang on. We're almost there, Evey, you've just got to hang on a little bit longer."

Whose voice was that? It sounded familiar, but she had no idea where she had heard it before. It was a boy, a boy she had known for a long time, but what was his name? For some reason she found herself thinking about worms, slimy, wriggling worms.

There were heavy steps sounding from somewhere underneath her, but she wasn't walking. She felt like she was moving up.

"Oh my God," a woman exclaimed. "What—what happened?" Once again she recognized the voice. It was warm and maternal, but her mother was dead and wasn't warm or maternal while she was alive.

She felt herself being flopped onto a table like a sack of rice. Or was it a bed? She couldn't really tell, but it felt hard against her back.

"Okay, okay," the woman said urgently. "It looks like a through-and-through on her, but there's no exit wound on Tom. I need to extract the bullet. Lourdes, cut away the fabric around the wound and try to stop the bleeding as best you can and I'll be there as soon as possible."

Suddenly she felt light on her face. It was the same as that soft pale light from before and it burned her skin. She could feel it blistering angrily and it stung like she was being pricked by bee stings over and over again. She felt her eyelids flutter a little. It wasn't black anymore, it was blinding, and it made her eyes hurt. And there was something flashing in front of her eyes. It was made of metal. No. No, no, no, no, no. Cold. Light. Metal.

She couldn't go back. Not there. Not again. Not the room with the light and the metal and the needles and the cutting. "No," she said weakly. "You can't take me. I won't let you take me."

She tried to sit up, but somebody pushed her back down. She had to get out. She had to get out right now. She started kicking, but hands grabbed her. She counted them, feeling the searing pressure. There were six of them.

After a few weak protests she found her voice. "NO!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "YOU'RE NOT GETTING ME YOU SCALY BASTARDS!"

"What the hell is happening to her?" a male voice asked. It sounded panicked.

The woman started talking again. "She's gone into shock. She's lost too much blood and has started hallucinating. She must think that she's back on the ship. We need to give her a transfusion now. Does anybody know her blood type?"

"AB positive," came another female voice. It was lower and raspier than the first. "She wouldn't shut up about it when we were in the hospital together."

The voices were confusing her. Everything was confusing her. She opened her eyes and looked around the room wildly. There were people standing over her, but none of them had faces. How could they not have faces?

"LET ME GO!" She kept kicking. She had to keep kicking. She had to get away.

"Lourdes, I need you to set up a blood transfusion. We need a donor."

"I'll do it," a male voice quickly responded.

"Good. Now we can't sedate her. With all the blood loss…she would probably OD. You're going to have to hold her down."

Hands were everywhere. Her arms, her legs, her shoulders, everywhere. There was a needle coming at her, like a big angry mosquito there to take her blood. "STOP IT!" She felt the needle stick into her skin.

"Anne," a younger, anxious female voice said, "Anne we need some help over here."

"One second. I've almost…got…it. There. Got the bullet." There was a clanking noise of metal on metal. "Okay, now let me get a look. It looks like a clean shot. There's no abdominal distension, there are no signs of internal bleeding. So why is she going into shock? Hold on a second. Open her mouth, and be careful."

She felt fingers sticking into her mouth, prying it open. She tried to scream, but the fingers stopped her.

"Dry as a bone. She's severely dehydrated, that's why she's in shock. Keep pressure on the wound and keep up the transfusion. That should sort out the dehydration." There was a short pause. "She'll be okay, she really will. Lourdes, you can take over here. I need to get back to Tom."

There were more footsteps, heavy, heavy footsteps, and then another gruff older voice entered. "I think I found something to help."

And there was something in front of her face. It was soft and wet and smelled of sugar and alcohol, like the rum cake her mother used to eat. And then she got really, really tired. She couldn't kick anymore and her eyelids drooped so that the faceless people disappeared behind them.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Evelyn felt light shining through her eyelids, but this time it was different. It wasn't that artificial light she had grown so used to, it was sunlight. And it didn't burn, it was comforting, the yellow kind of light that came during the late afternoon and seemed to be able warm you from the inside out. For the past few months it had felt like the sky was always grey, always overcast. This was the first time in a long time she could actually _feel_ the sun.

She could hear people all around her, walking around and talking and carrying out chores. Evelyn's eyes flew open. Over her head she saw the camouflage fabric of an open air tent. She felt a slow smile cover her face. Most of what she seemed to remember from the night before was terrifying and unreal, like one of those horror movies where they use too many strobe lights and cause epileptics to have seizures when they're seen in theaters. It made her think that what she remembered before that wasn't true, that it was a happy delusion. But it wasn't a delusion. She had heard Weaver's voice. And she had seen Hal and Ben. And then she had been shot. As far as welcoming parties went it kind of sucked, but at this point she would rather be injured and here rather than be intact anywhere else.

The mattress under her was lumpy and the pea-green knitted blanket that had been pulled up to her neck smelled of mildew, but to Evelyn it felt like the penthouse of the Ritz Carlton. The way she and Tom had been traveling, she hadn't slept on anything remotely resembling a bed in a really long time. She threw off the damp blanket and pushed herself up on her elbows. There was a sharp, stabbing pain and a strange pulling sensation somewhere at her lower abdomen that caused her to suck in a breath. Evelyn grabbed the hem of that baggy T-shirt someone had clothed her in and pulled it upwards a bit revealing some lightly blood-stained bandages wrapping around her middle. Oh, right. She had been shot, and the way she understood it being shot usually resulted in bullet wounds

Evelyn blinked a few times and took in her appearance. As far as she could tell, she was still pretty pale, which made sense given the blood loss. There was also some gauze wrapping around the crook of her right elbow, presumably where they had shoved the IV needle in her. She was wearing what looked like a pair of stained scrub pants and a loose shirt that had the phrase 'You Can Read!" emblazoned across the front. She let out a raspy bark of laughter.

"Lyn?" a voice came from somewhere on the other side of the tent.

She twisted her head around to see a well-muscled Hispanic man sitting in a wheelchair with an open copy of Us Weekly sitting on his lap. Her lips quirked up into a half-smile. "Hey, Max," she croaked, "how's life been treating you?"

A wide grin covered his face as he wheeled towards the bed. "A lot better than it looks like it's been treating you," he said, his voice tinged with both humor and concern. "I mean damn, Lyn. You look like shit."

Evelyn started laughing a bit, but it came out sounding more like a wheeze. "Wow, Max, you really do wonders for a girl's self-esteem. I should carry you around in my back pocket just to say things like that when I'm feeling blue."

"I do what I can to keep you grounded," he said with a smirk. "And I speak the truth. You're skin and bones. You look like a movie extra from 'Dawn of the Dead'."

"And you look like you've put on a few pounds," she bit back, "but I wasn't going to mention it. Because that would be rude."

But that's where their banter ended because Max launched himself forward and pulled her into a hug. Evelyn didn't really know what to do. Max wasn't usually the type to emote. She settled for patting his back awkwardly.

"Max," she whispered into his ear, "we're hugging. We don't hug."

"Well we do now," he mumbled into her shoulder, "so you better fucking get used to it."

Evelyn relaxed into the hug, but then started laughing hysterically, which caused her to hiss in pain when she felt her stitches pulling. Max immediately released her and rolled back a bit, looking her up and down to see if there was any damage.

"I thought you'd be mad at me," she muttered quietly, "for leaving like I did. Just kind of poofing out of existence. Last time I did that you got mad."

He laughed a bit. "There was no room for being pissed, Lyn. I thought you were dead."

Evelyn smiled. "Oh ye of little faith."

"I'm serious, Lyn." Evelyn blinked. His tone had shifted really quickly from jovial to grief-stricken. "Most of us thought you were dead. We grieved you—I grieved you. We sent out patrols, lots of them. But then a week became two weeks, and two weeks became a month with no sign. You were just—gone. You were the closest thing I had to family for such a long time and then you disappeared. And now you're back and that's…hell that's a miracle Lyn. The way I see it I don't have a right to be pissed after a miracle."

Evelyn stared at Max quietly for a long, long time. She and Max didn't do emotions. That had been the basis of their relationship—they would sit and actively not talk about things, and through that not-talking they would solve their problems. Something bad would happen, they would not talk about it, tell each other to suck it up, and the world would keep turning. So to have Max Huertas sitting in front of her talking about his feelings was really, really uncomfortable. She couldn't think of anything significant to say in response, so she just reached out took his hand in hers, gave it a comforting squeeze, and said very, very quietly, "Don't be such a chick."

Max's face split into a wide grin. Evelyn felt herself smiling back. Everything was the same way it was, just as it should be. It was the way the both of them liked it, and, what's more, it was what they both needed. It was a weird relationship, sharing emotional intimacy by completely ignoring all emotions, but it worked for them, so why change it?

"How do you feel?"

Evelyn snorted. "Like I went three rounds with a Transformer. I mean, I got shot. I think there's a general consensus that you feel pretty shitty after that. Plus I've got this splitting headache—" Evelyn brought her hands to her face and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. "What happened last night, Max? I mean, I felt like I got dropped down the rabbit hole into some absolutely terrifying acid trip, but what really happened?"

Max sighed and rubbed his head. "Well, it sucked really. It started out like pretty much any other mission did. We saw the fighters off and then they came back. But all the sudden Ben runs up with Tom slung over his shoulder and then there's Hal carrying you. Man, that boy was freaked out. Tom was still pretty lucid, but you were really out of it—you were in shock—kicking and screaming at us to stay away. It took a lot of them to hold you down—I was watching from the outside the window—but eventually they managed to set up a transfusion."

"Who gave me the blood?"

Max sighed. "Me mostly," he said, gesturing to the gauze that wrapped his elbow. "You've gotten my blood before and there was no reaction so Dr. Glass thought it best, but Hal gave some too. Seemed pretty insistent on it, he did."

Evelyn narrowed her eyes. Max was using a very knowing tone, and she didn't appreciate it. He had a history of trying to be her Yenta, and she never liked it. She changed the subject quickly. "I remember smelling something really sweet before passing out. What was that?"

"Ah" Max said knowingly, "that would be the chloroform." He saw her befuddled expression and continued. "Well you were freaking out and they had to knock you out somehow. You lost too much blood for us to use morphine, and somehow Weaver managed to get his hands on some so…"

"But chloroform? What is this, an Agatha Christie novel?"

Max just shrugged. "You use what you got." He rolled to the table in the corner of the tent and pouring her a cup of water and grabbing a plate of food, all of which she shoved down her gullet in an incredibly unladylike fashion. She felt like she hadn't eaten in days. Hell, she had barely been eating anything at all for the past few months, living off squirrel meat and beans when you could actually find them.

"Anyway," he continued as she slurped at the water, "after you were knocked out Lourdes stitched you up and monitored your vitals while Anne worked on Tom. When you were stable they moved you out here so they could have more space. Apparently the bullet broke up into a couple of fragments and it took them a long time to get it all out. He's still under observation."

Evelyn wanted to ask if Tom would make it, if he would be okay, but she knew nobody could answer that question. It was a difficult enough question to answer when you're in a fully functional hospital let alone in the back of a modified party bus. And she knew that Anne would never give up on Tom. There was nothing she could do, nothing any of them could do, but wait.

"So where is everybody else?" she asked, wiping at her mouth. "I mean, I know I'm not exactly Miss Congeniality or whatever, but I thought some people would be happy to see me alive."

Max snorted into his own cup of water. "I never thought of you as the needy, insecure teenage girl. Come on, princess, show some spine."

"If you call me princess again, I will punch you in the trachea."

"And there it is!" Max said happily, clapping his hands like a giddy child before continuing. "Most of them are off laying another ambush. War stops for no man. Or woman. But if it makes you feel any better Hal was by your bedside for no insignificant portion of time," he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "There was even some hair-stroking involved."

"Shut up."

Evelyn sat up straight and shifted so that her legs were dangling over the bed. Her feet had been bandaged up too. All those months of walking had taken a toll. She had tried her best not to mention it, Tom had been under enough stress to begin with, but some of her blisters had gotten infected. She had kept an eye on it, but there was no way of treating it while the were traveling. So she had left it, and it had hurt like hell every single step she took. It hadn't seemed important at the time, but now as she stared down at her mangled feet she couldn't help but feel how broken she was. Not that anyone would ever know. There were enough problems flying around and she refused to add to them.

Evelyn glanced up from her feet to look at Max. "You didn't answer my question from before, you know. How have things been going here with the 2nd Mass? Big plans, big strategies, big wins? What was the fallout after blowing up that structure." She sighed at the pained expression that crossed Max's face. "I'm not made out of glass, Max. I need to know what's going on. It's been pretty much all I've had to think about for the last three months. I need to know."

Max shook his head. "No, no you don't. What you need to do right now is rest. Now listen to Dr. Huertas and lay back down."

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Max, when is the last time I listened to you?"

"Two weeks before never."

"Exactly," she replied with a definitive nod. "So if you aren't going to spill than I'll find someone more accommodating. But first things first. Where's Tom? I need to see him, to see if he's doing okay."

Max shook his head fervently. "No, Lyn. You've got to stay put and lay down. They moved you here from that bus because you were 'stable', not because you're all better. You just got shot for Christ's sake, these things have recovery periods. You can't go waltzing around the camp 20 hours after being shot. You could pull your stitches or get an infection. And daddy Mason's unconscious anyway. Dr. Glass has him cooped up in the medical bus thing like I said earlier."

"All the more reason to go," she replied, grabbing the boots at the foot of the bed and gingerly pulling them on. "We went to hell and back, Max. We kept each other sane. Saved each other's life more times than I can count. And I'll be damned if I'm not there when he wakes up." She went to tie the laces, but was having trouble with them. Her vision was a bit cloudy. She blinked twice and kept trying.

"I don't see that happening, Lyn. You're not going anywhere."

Evelyn glanced back up at him. "I think you're seriously underestimating how stubborn I am, Max. I'm going."

"But how are you going to do that when you're asleep?" he said slyly.

Evelyn furrowed her eyebrows quizzically. "Max, what the hell are you—" Then her eyes fell on the cup of water he had poured her. She ripped off one of her boots and threw it at him. "Seriously, Max? What the fuck?"

"What is it?" he asked with an expression of doe-eyed innocence.

"You know exactly what it is, you son of a bitch," she spat angrily. "You dosed me! Again!"

"Well I wouldn't have to keep dosing you if you would stop being an idiot and take a fucking break," he said with a condescending smirk. "It's not my fault that stupidity is one of you basic character traits. Don't get me wrong, Lyn, you've got a lot of good ones too. You're charming personality, for example—" She threw her other shoe at him. "Okay, okay," he said in earnest contemplation, "I guess we need to scratch that one off the list. I'm sure I can think of some others. But the fact remains that someone's got to protect you from yourself."

"And who asked you?" she growled.

"Oh, honey, I volunteered. It's not something I like really, but I just seem to have this sixth sense where the left side of my nose itches whenever you're going to do something idiotic and self-destructive." He paused for a moment while he helped her move her legs back onto the bed and pulled the blanket up to her neck while she grumbled under her breath. He patted her on the head, that giant grin still on his stupid, stupid face. "Do you want me to sing you a lullaby?"

"Fuck. Off."

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a salute, rolling out of the tent. "You'll thank me later, sweet cheeks!" he shouted over his shoulder.

"I seriously doubt that!" she shouted back.

And then a few minutes later sleep claimed her. Again. It was decided. When she woke up she really was going to punch Max in the trachea. Twice.

**So I hope you guys aren't to disappointed by the absence of Hal, but like I said, I'm trying to stick with the timeline and this was the best way to do it. There's also a bit of symmetry with chapter 3 of TSKoB that I found fun. Anyway, I missed Max, so I figured I would bring him back in a big way.**

**I would also really like to know what you think of the first portion. I was trying to go for seriously disorientation while still letting you know what was going on. I hoped it worked out okay. This chapter was all about confusion and missing the necessary information for me.  
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**Reviews are love!  
**


	5. It's Time to Wake Up

**Hello again guys! I would just like to thank all of you for reading/reviewing/following.  
**

******Disclaimer: Like you guys really need me to say it...I do not own Falling Skies. SPIELBERG *shakes fist* Any dialogue you recognize was taken from the show (and I hope that I'm not being too unoriginal with my storytelling, but I'm going to have it follow Season 2)**

******Photos of my OCs are on my profile (Just copy/paste the URLs and delete the spaces)  
**

******I have also developed a soundtrack. It's on my profile as a different story. Chapter 1 is TSKoB and chapter 2 is ADToW.**

Chapter 4 – It's Time to Wake Up

By the time Evelyn woke up for the second time, the sun had sunk below the horizon. The last few rays of light were still peeking over the line or trees and casting faint pink and orange streaks across the sky. She pushed herself up on her elbows to take a look around. Max had gone and she was all alone in the tent. She strained her neck and peered at the magazine he had left on the table. It was open to the headline "Snookie: The Inside Story." She snorted and collapsed back onto the lumpy pillow, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

It was getting dark and people were starting to pack in for the night, but there was still a faint glow emanating from the few lights and lanterns that remained lit. There was a subtle ethereal beauty to it all. Evelyn closed her eyes for a moment and let her mind float, taking in all the sounds around her. She felt her lips pull up into a hesitant smile. There were hushed conversations, jovial laughter, angry fights, and loud cursing. For most people it probably just sounded noise, and it was just noise. But to her, in that moment, it was a symphony. She had gone so long without hearing the sound of other people, right now she just wanted to let it wash over her like waves on a beach.

Evelyn hoisted herself into the sitting position, careful not to pull at the stitches. Her head was throbbing, courtesy of Max and his ridiculous need to keep her comatose. She massaged her forehead with the heel of her hand, trying to work away the ache. There was a loud banging sound somewhere nearby that made her cringe. It was like her brain was trying to force its way out of her skull. Well at least this time he had been at least mildly considerate and left some aspirin and a cup of water on the card table next to the bed. Evelyn popped the pills into her mouth and threw her head back, forcing them down her throat.

At the foot of the bed there was a small pile of rumpled clothes, stained, but clean. Evelyn smiled as she rummaged through them. It was a black tank top, blue flannel shirt, and a pair of loose cargo pants, exactly what she would have chosen for herself. She carefully reached over her shoulders to pull that baggy T-shirt over her head, leaving her in her sports bra. She glanced down at the bandages. They were clean and white now. Someone had come in to change them while she was unconscious. Evelyn pulled one of her feet to her and carefully unwrapped the bandages covering it. What she saw caused her to gag. It was probably a better sight than earlier, but there was still a massive crater in her foot that was an angry and irritated red. She quickly rewrapped the bandages and pulled some socks on over them.

After what seemed like an eternity of gentle maneuvering and hissing in pain she finally managed to clothe herself. Finally she managed to pull her boots on and walked carefully to the edge of the tent, wincing a little with every step. While on the road with Tom she had been able to ignore the pain, but while she was out her feet had been poked, prodded, and stabbed with needles, probably trying to drain the abscesses that had formed. Now it felt like the skin on the bottom of her feet had been shorn off, leaving nothing between the bone and the ground she walked on. But her rule remained the same: never show weakness if it can be avoided.

Evelyn stood there at the edge of the tent for a moment and looked at the scene in front of her. Most of her was happy to be back with the 2nd Mass, but there was this tiny seed of terror and doubt that had been planted in her mind, and it was starting to grow roots. Being out there with Tom, all alone on those railroad tracks—it had been miserable, but there was something about it that was oddly comforting. Out there life had a single purpose: survival. It was simple, it was pure. Live or die. Kill or be killed. There was no room for second guessing or for regrets. But in the 2nd Mass life became infinitely more complicated. Each individual was responsible for the lives of every single other person there. Politics, disagreements, conflicting loyalties. It was just so….uncertain. And now, with that thing in her head—whatever it was—things were more uncertain for her now than ever. She had become a liability, a danger to everyone around her, and they didn't know it yet. Part of her brain was rebelling, telling her that she shouldn't be there, but the other part was too much of a coward to act on it. She looked down at the ground and noticed that her hand was shaking. Evelyn clenched it into a fist and tried to hold it still. Taking a deep breath, she took a step forward and out of the tent.

Slowly Evelyn made her way to the medical bus where Tom was being kept. In reality it was a distance of about 50 feet, but for some reason when she looked at it the distance seemed to pull and stretch so it was miles away. As she walked she could feel people's eyes on her, boring holes into her skin, so she kept hers firmly locked on the ground. It suddenly struck her how few of these people she actually knew. The few short weeks she had spent with the 2nd Mass were so goddamn busy that she never really had a chance to 'mingle' with the civilians. Not that she really would if she had the opportunity to. Evelyn held no delusions when it came to her inter-personal communication skills. There was no point denying the fact that she sucked at it. In fact, now that she thought about it, every single human relationship she had since this whole thing started had been forged over the need for medical attention or blowing shit up. It didn't seem like a functional way to establish friendships, but they were living in a pretty dysfunctional world.

Evelyn carefully walked up the steps that led into the medical bus. When she entered she saw the silhouette of a figure cast against the opaque shower curtains that divided the back of the bus from the front. She wrapped her knuckles against the window nearest her to indicate her presence in the bus. The silhouetted figure straightened and the shadow grew larger as it approached her. Then the curtain was ripped back to reveal a very wearied looking Lourdes. The girl seemed different from the last time Evelyn had seen her. Her hair, which was usually neatly pulled back into a ponytail, was dirty and disheveled and her usually bright, hopeful eyes seemed hollow somehow.

"Hi, Lourdes," Evelyn said with a weak smile.

Upon seeing her, Lourdes eyes seemed to light up a bit, showing the optimism that Evelyn had come to expect from her. Evelyn felt her smile widen a bit more as the other girl rushed forward and pulled her into a hug.

"I'm so glad you're back," Lourdes mumbled into her ear. "I prayed for you and Tom—that the two of you would come back to us safe. And now you're here. God brought you back to us."

Evelyn nodded into her Lourdes's shoulder. Not because she was agreeing with her—because she wasn't—but because she felt reassured. Behind those hollow eyes her friend was just the same. She still managed to keep her unwavering faith through everything that had happened. It was nice to know that not everything had changed in the past three months .

"Well you know me, Lourdes," Evelyn said quietly. "I don't know how I feel about giving God the credit for this sort of thing—I don't much go for the faith in the Creator thing— but if he did give me an assist I certainly am grateful."

Lourdes pulled back from the hug, keeping her hands on Evelyn's shoulders and shaking her head slightly. A sad smile crossed her face. "I don't know, Evelyn, you might have more faith than you pretend. I saw what that trip did to you—to your body. I saw your feet, I wrapped them—"

"Yeah," Evelyn replied with a soft laugh. "I really am in need of a pedicure."

Lourdes gave her a poignant look of frustration and concern that so resembled Anne's motherly expression, it made Evelyn blink in surprise.

"Don't be so flippant, Evelyn," she said. "Not with me at least. I don't pretend to know everything that happened, but like I said, I saw what it did to you. Every single step would have been complete agony, and the fact that you managed to keep going despite all… that shows you had something that kept driving you forward no matter what. You might not call it faith, but whatever it is it's not that far off from it. We're not that different when it comes down to it."

Evelyn pressed her lips together and nodded slowly. "Yeah, yeah I guess you're right. We're not that different." With that look of determination on Lourdes's face, she couldn't bring herself to tell the girl that she was wrong. That she had kept going with no hope of ever getting back to the 2nd Mass. That it wasn't faith that kept her going, but the unwillingness to let Tom's faith die. Maybe that meant Evelyn was wrong, and that she should have faith. They did find the 2nd Mass after all. But ultimately the answer was still no. Too much bad had happened, and just because one good thing occurred didn't mean they would keep occurring. To Evelyn praying so often seemed like writing a Christmas list for Santa. But Lourdes deserved that faith, she deserved that certainty. She worked hard enough to achieve it, so she should reap the rewards.

Given the expression on Lourdes's face she knew Evelyn wasn't being entirely honest. "You know you don't have to pretend for me, Evelyn. You're entitled to your own opinion. My faith is what keeps me going, but it doesn't have to be that way for everyone."

Evelyn nodded and leaned against the side of the bus, taking a deep breath. "The truth is that I find it more comforting that things aren't shaped by some sort of external force. Bad things happen and good things happen. If good things happen I don't have to feel like I owe anybody and if bad things happen I don't have to reconcile it with anything. I am the guardian of my own life, no blame, no credit, just me. And that's the way I like it."

"I can understand that," Lourdes replied quietly. She shook her head slightly like she was trying to rid her self of her thought. "Come on," she said gesturing to one of the seats, "let's check your stitches."

"I'm fine," Evelyn said quickly. "There's no need."

"You really are a terrible patient," Lourdes said, rolling her eyes. "Now sit down before I make you."

Evelyn sat down grumbling, drumming her fingers on the edge of the seat. She glanced over Lourdes's shoulder and saw Tom still laying there. His face was ashen and his breaths were coming out quick and short. Evelyn turned back to Lourdes whose face bore an expression of sympathy. "Is he going to be okay?" Evelyn asked quietly.

Lourdes sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "We can't say really. The fact that the bullet stayed in there has left him vulnerable to infection, and…we're doing everything we can, but we won't know until he wakes up."

Lourdes pulled up her tank top and carefully peeled the bandage away. "What's the prognosis, doc?" she asked lightly. Lourdes didn't respond. Evelyn looked down at her and saw that her eyebrows were furrowed curiously. "Is there something wrong?"

"No," she said quietly, "no, nothing's wrong. It's healing nicely and really quickly. Ridiculously quickly. You'll be fine in no time at all."

Evelyn couldn't shake the feeling that something was bothering Lourdes, but she didn't press. She wasn't sure that she would like the answer. Lourdes pulled herself up to her feet and massaged her forehead, staring absently into space. She looked absolutely exhausted.

"Lourdes," she asked hesitantly, "when is the last time you got any sleep."

"Hm, what?" Her eyes snapped back up to Evelyn's. "Oh, it's been about two days. At least since you and Tom showed up again."

"Okay, that settles it then."

"Settles what?" Lourdes asked through a yawn.

Evelyn stood up and grabbed Lourdes's shoulders, spinning her around and directing her to the door. "That you are going to go get some shut-eye while I watch Tom."

Lourdes turned back with an unsure expression. "Oh, Evelyn, I really appreciate that, but you should be getting rest yourself. It's only been a few hours since—"

Evelyn bit her lip nervously. "I've slept enough for a lifetime. And I know what I'm doing, at least enough to keep track of his vitals. The cot I slept in is within shouting distance. I'll call you if anything goes wrong. You need to sleep to stay on the top of your game."

Lourdes tried to stifle a yawn, but failed horribly. "Alright," she conceded, "but just for 30 minutes. You've got to wake me up in 30 minutes."

Evelyn nodded solemnly. "Absolutely," she said in a steady, resolute voice. But it was bullshit. She had no intention whatsoever of waking Lourdes up.

Lourdes slowly made her way out of the bus dragging her feet as she went, and Evelyn couldn't help but notice the wary look that was shot in her direction. Lourdes really did look dead on her feet. She needed sleep. If Evelyn was certain of one thing, it was that sleep stopped people from making mistakes. Tiredness led to carelessness, and with the situation they lived in now, nobody could afford to be careless. But despite all that Evelyn could tell that there was a part of her that thought leaving Evelyn alone with Tom was a bad idea.

As Tom lay on that bed, Evelyn couldn't help but think that he looked a little bit broken, much like she felt at the moment. Evelyn checked all the vitals: heart rate, temperature, blood pressure, breathing rate. She checked each of them four times. Then she collapsed in the seat next to Tom, her foot tapping nervously and looking anywhere but at him. The bus was a far cry from what they had at the high school. Space, cleanliness, supplies, everything seemed to come up short. But that was the most they could really expect when you were stationed…wherever it was that they were stationed.

Evelyn sighed and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. There was a rust stain that she decided looked like Elvis smoking from an oversized hookah. She squeezed her eyes shut and slammed her head against the wall in frustration. How had it come to this? Ever since she had gotten back, she could feel people's eyes on her, like they were trying to assess her condition. And what's more, they seemed to be deliberately avoiding giving her any concrete information as to the state of the 2nd Mass. They didn't trust her anymore. Not that she could blame them or anything, especially after her psychotic display last night. Hell, she hardly trusted herself these days. Which is why she really needed Tom to wake up. He would be able to tell her what to do. He always knew the right thing to do.

She needed to slow down her brain, to stop thinking so she focused on her breathing. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. What was that old meditation phrase her mother used to say during yoga? I am a leaf on the wind, watch how I soar. Time sort of slid together into one massive ball of existence. She lost herself in it, keeping her ears open and waiting for Tom to respond. A soft whispering noise sounded in her ears causing her to bolt upright with her eyes wide open. "Tom?" she asked anxiously.

She launched herself forward and leaned over him to see what was going on. "Tom?" she whispered again, listening for a response. But there was no response. His eyes were moving rapidly under there lids and he was muttering incoherent nonsense. She could make out the phrase 'where's Ben?'. He was having another one of his dreams, only this time he couldn't wake up.

Evelyn felt her shoulders sag in disappointment and she retreated to the seat.

"It's time to wake up, Tom," she said to the open air. "Stop being so lazy and get the hell up." She fell silent and hoped for a response, but all she heard was an aggressive silence.

"Okay, Tom. I'm going shout historical inaccuracies at you until you wake up and talk to me. You want to stop me?" She paused for a moment. "Alright, here it goes then. Benjamin Franklin didn't discover electricity, it was his pet mouse."

Silence.

"Nothing to say to that? Here's another. After World War Two the remaining Nazis fled to the moon where they currently are awaiting the right time to re-invade."

More silence.

Evelyn exhaled deeply and brought her knees up to her chest. "I need you to wake up, Tom. I can't do this alone. You're the only other person who has any idea what—what happened. I need you here. I need someone on my side, and right now I'm pretty sure you're it. So, as a favor to me, will you just wake up?"

Still no response. Evelyn buried her head into her knees and breathed slowly, trying to calm herself down again. Tom would be okay. He had to be okay.

After an hour or two of waiting, of watching Tom's chest rise and fall, Evelyn heard other steps coming up the stairs that led into the bus. Two silhouettes appeared against the curtain. Once it was ripped aside it revealed the small figure of Matt. Evelyn felt the corners of her mouth quirk up into a smile.

"Evey!" Matt cried out in his youthful voice, running across the bus and colliding into a hug, knocking the air out of her lungs.

"Hey there, little man," she replied using one arm to pull him into a hug and ruffling his hair with another.

More footsteps sounded in the bus as another figure appeared. "Be careful, Matt!" Anne spoke anxiously. "She's still healing from a serious wound."

The small boy pulled back quickly and looked up at Evelyn from his spot at her waist. "I'm so sorry, Evey!" he said quickly. "Did I hurt you?"

Evelyn pulled him back into the hug leaned forward and kissed him on the top of his head. "You could never hurt me, squirt," she murmured softly. She looked back up at Anne and offered up an awkward smile to show that she was intact. Anne beamed in response.

"It's good to have you back," Anne said with a mixture of happiness and relief in her voice.

"Good to be back," Evelyn replied, her arms still encircled around the mini-person clinging to her waist. Anne continued to approach and brought her arm around Evelyn's neck, pulling her in for a hug with Matt still between the two of them. "I'm sorry our reunion had to be under these circumstances," she mumbled into Anne's ear. "But Tom is going to pull through. He has to, and he will."

"I hope you're right," Anne replied quietly.

"I'm always right," Evelyn said with a playful smile that almost hid the sadness she felt. Anne continued to glance at Tom, her expression anxious, so Evelyn decided it would be best to get out of her way. "Hey, Matt? You wanna catch up outside?"

Matt smiled happily. "Yeah! Yeah let's do that."

Anne gave a nod of thanks and Evelyn nodded back as she ushered Matt outside. Once they exited, they both sat down and leaned against one of the bus's tires. Before sitting Evelyn stared through one of the windows and saw Anne's shadow as she leaned over Tom. Evelyn let out a sigh. He was in good hands, better hands than hers.

Evelyn brought her arm around Matt's shoulders and brought him towards her as he nuzzled into her side.

"You know Ben didn't mean to shoot you," he said quickly. "You or Dad. He was just trying to kill skitters and keep us all safe, so you really shouldn't blame him."

Evelyn looked down at the mass of tangled hair and mussed it once more. "I don't blame Ben for what happened, Matt. All he saw was the skitter. I would have shot too. It's nobody's fault."

She felt Matt's body relax a little under her arm. "It's okay, Matt," she said quietly. "It's really okay. You don't need to worry about anything. I'm alive and well, and Tom will be too. Just give it time."

There was a short pause before he spoke up again. "I want to fight," he said quietly. "Everyone keeps treating me like I'm a kid, like I can't do anything, but I can. I want to fight like you do. I want to help."

Evelyn took a deep breath and pulled him in tighter. "Aw, Matt, you shouldn't be helping yet."

She felt the little body tense next to her. Matt was angry. "I can help!" he said harshly. "I can fight too, not just you and Hal and Ben. I can fight too!"

Evelyn let the statement hang in the air for a moment before responding. "There's no doubt in my mind that you could help," she said looking down at the small boy. "It's just that….you won't get to be a kid for very long, Matt. I didn't even before all this happened. But you? You can still be a kid for a little bit, so hold on to that as long as you can. Whether or not it makes you feel useless. Because it's people like you who can make everyone forget their hopelessness. Do you understand what I'm saying?" She looked down at the boy and he gave an understanding smile. Evelyn smiled back. "In a lot of ways you're the most important part of all this, Matt. People look at you and it gives them hope."

"I'm hope?" he asked with a confused expression on his face.

Evelyn nodded a bit. "Yes, Matt. You're hope. And hope is the most important thing we could ever need. You remind people why they fight, and that's far more important that firing a gun."

Matt seemed pacified for a while. "But I want to be able to shoot," he said eagerly. "If things go badly, I'll need to be know how to. And I'll need a teacher."

Evelyn gritted her teeth. She didn't like the option being presented to her, but it was the only one. "I'll teach you Matt," she said quietly, "but only after the other options have been used up. And I'm going to have to talk to your Dad first. I've been with him a long time, and this was never what he wanted for you. So we're both going to ask first, okay?"

"Okay," Matt said quietly. "We'll ask first."

Evelyn looked at the curly head of hair that was pressing into her shoulder. The little twerp had just lied to her. Matt never lied. "You know, Matt," she said wearily, "I can't tell you what to do—I don't have that right—but I hope you'll listen to me anyway."

"I'm listening," he said quietly.

She nodded and continued. "When you start shooting a gun it's—well it's exciting. It's easy to get swept up in it, like you're playing a video game or something. But you need to remember that you're not Batman. When you pick up a gun, you have to be ready to kill whatever's on the other side of it. You can't freeze up or take too much time. You have to be ready to kill. And—well—I don't think you should be ready to kill yet, Matt."

"Thank you," he whispered quietly.

"For what?"

He fidgeted a bit in his seat. "For talking to me and telling me why. Hal never explains. He just keeps saying no over and over again and never tells me why."

Evelyn sighed and ruffled Matt's hair. "He's your big brother. He's to close to see any of it clearly. And I think that it scares him that you want to shoot. He wants to keep you away from all of this, and he gets upset when he thinks he failed."

"But it's my life," Matt whined, reminding Evelyn of just how young he really was.

"But it's not just your life," Evelyn replied. "It's all our lives. And you need to realize that."

She felt Matt's head nod against her shoulder and he got really quiet, fiddling with his hair the way he always did when he was thinking about something. It was several long minutes before either of them moved at all. Matt yawned widely.

"You need to get some sleep, little man," Evelyn mumbled. "It's getting pretty late."

"No," he said shaking his head, sending his hair flying about. "No, I am staying awake until my dad wakes up."

Evelyn smiled to herself. "Sure thing, Matt."

They sat there quiet as Evelyn stroked the top of Matt's head soothingly. Soon enough she could hear soft, even breaths and light snores. He had only lasted about five minutes. Evelyn leaned down and picked him up. She slowly entered the bus, nodding to Anne who was still leaning over Tom. Evelyn laid the small figure down on the extra bed and covered it with a blanket, tucking it under his chin.

"I'm going to leave him here," she whispered to Anne. "He wants to stay near his dad, so…."

"It's fine," Anne said with a quiet smile. "I'll make sure he's okay."

Evelyn nodded and made her way back out of the bus, sitting down on the lowest step. She reached up and pulled her air out of the tie that kept it back from her face. She felt a bit liberated as it tumbled down on her shoulders. She rarely ever left her hair down these days. It was tactically impractical to do so. It would get in her face, obscure her vision and as silly as it might sound, that could mean life or death. If you fail to see an enemy, you die. Simple. But every once in a while she took it down. It was those times when she thought about having a normal life, without the apocalypse and everything. Would she be going out on dates? Going dancing with friends? All of that stuff seemed so trivial now, but buried deep inside there was still that teenaged girl who wanted to put on a dress and look pretty. But that was never her, not even before the skitters came.

Twirling her hair in her fingers, Evelyn thought back over the last few hours. It wasn't the welcome she had expected, there were no gleeful shouts or group hugs. It was quiet and hushed, like it had happened in the dark. There was still so much to worry about with Tom, it was inevitable that the mood would be dampened. But Evelyn found that she quite liked it that way. It cut through all the pretense. The people she saw were the ones she cared about, and that cared about her. Evelyn hated hellos just as much as she hated goodbyes. There was a wall there, like you were obligated to be happy regardless of what you actually feel. This way she felt relief more than anything else. There was no big event, she sort of just snapped into place like the missing piece of the puzzle. No muss, no fuss, just….fitting.

Evelyn rubbed at her eyes and stared out at the road in front of her. The air was still, stagnant almost. In that moment the day caught up with her. It was like she had never left to begin with, like she had never got on the ship. She had simply been pulled out of time for a bit and was popped back in again. Nothing had changed. But everything had changed. There was this strange energy around the camp, an anxious one, and it made her feel so uncertain.

There was the sound of gravel crunching under feet from somewhere in the distance. Crunch, crunch, crunch. But there was something else there too, a sort of scraping noise. Evelyn was familiar with that sound, and it made her smile. She pushed herself to her feet and turned towards the source of the noise. A few yards out there was a silhouetted figure approaching. She couldn't see the face, but then again she really didn't need to. She brought her hand up for an awkward wave.

"Hey, Hal."

When Hal finally came close enough for her to see his face properly, there was a big, sloppy grin painted across it. He didn't say anything. He just started jogging towards her and wrapped her into a hug, one hand moving to the back of her head, driving a hand in her hair, and another wrapping around her waist. Evelyn's arms encircled his neck and she buried her face in his shoulder. The both of them held on tight, not wanting to let go.

"I told you I'd be back," she whispered.

"Yeah, well, it took you freaking long enough." Evelyn could hear the smile in his voice as he said it.

Evelyn snorted. Pretty soon they were both laughing, still standing there and hugging each other. After a while Hal pulled back, holding her by the shoulders and studying her face. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Hal."

**Special thanks to Druid Archer, Guests 1 and 2, MySoxRock, XDLoveLoverLoved, Katie, Nemu-Chan (I'm so glad you like Max, because I love him), and Geekman-1 for reviewing. You guys make my day. And to Guest, I am ecstatic that you like this story more than 'The Same Kind of Broken. It makes me feel like I'm growing as an author. Part of me writing this fanfic is practice for an original story which I will hopefully publish one day, so thanks.  
**

**Also, I made too super-awesome and very obscure movie references when she was quoting historical inaccuracies at Tom. If you know what they are I will be very impressed. Sound off if you know what they are!  
**

**Reviews are love! And they give Overlords nosebleeds. And they feed the muse, so review please!  
**


	6. Dead Hearts

**Hello again guys! I would just like to thank all of you for reading/reviewing/following.  
**

******Disclaimer: Like you guys really need me to say it...I do not own Falling Skies. SPIELBERG *shakes fist* Any dialogue you recognize was taken from the show (and I hope that I'm not being too unoriginal with my storytelling, but I'm going to have it follow Season 2)**

******Photos of my OCs are on my profile (Just copy/paste the URLs and delete the spaces)  
**

******I have also developed a soundtrack. It's on my profile as a different story. Chapter 1 is TSKoB and chapter 2 is ADToW.**

Chapter 5 – Dead Hearts

Sunrise the next day brought a harsh light. Evelyn could feel it beating down on her shoulders, and that heat followed her wherever she went, despite the fact that it was probably about 50 degrees out. She felt like she was in a giant Petri dish, and the sun was watching her through a microscope. Or like she was a little ant and the cosmos was a sadistic kid that was trying to incinerate her with a magnifying glass. Maybe she was going crazy, though many would argue that she had never been never fully sane to begin with. She usually took that as a compliment seeing as it made her more interesting, but these days, with that thing in her head, it just hit too close to home. She kept her eccentric little thoughts to herself, otherwise people might start thinking about her what she thought about herself.

The welcoming party arrived that morning. Perhaps she was able to successfully demonstrate that she wasn't a raving nutjob and they were no longer afraid for their lives around her. The previous night she had spent talking with Hal and then she bunked with Maggie, getting her first good night's sleep in over three months. Maggie had insisted on giving up her cot. It had been awkward, with Hal at least. She wasn't really sure what to say, or what to do. A lot could happen in three months, a lot could change in three months. Maggie had just clapped her on the shoulder and spouted off a "so you're not dead then." When it came to her and Maggie, things never really had to be said, they just….knew. It was like they were on the same wavelength or something, and it had been that way ever since they were in the hospital together. No muss, no fuss, just understanding. That has all been fine, she had gotten through that easily enough, but the following morning was absolutely horrific.

Evelyn was never a 'people person'. She was brash and rude and, if you didn't know her well enough to know she was kidding, she could be down right offensive. So having person after person come up to shake her hand and congratulate her on her return was like the ninth circle of hell. She didn't even know most of the people. Sure she had seen them around, but she had never talked to them, and now they were talking to her like she was fucking Joan of Arc or the hero of the revolution or some shit like that. She didn't deserve the accolades and she didn't deserve the discomfort, especially given the fact that she could still see the distrust in their eyes. The pretense of the hello was raging in full force. And now she really needed Purell. All of that hand-shaking, she had probably caught the flu from someone.

Despite all of the people she saw that day, some faces were glaringly absent. One of them was Ben's. She hadn't seen him anywhere since that alley. He was probably avoiding her out of guilt, which she thought was stupid, but it made a certain sort of sense. And then there was Amy. Where the hell was Amy? She had expected the little hellion to run up and start berating her before she was even fully conscious, but the endearingly annoying tween was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she was with Ben. Evelyn had suspected that something may have been going on with the two of them before she left. She would go looking for Amy soon enough, but for now she was hiding out in Weaver's tent with the people she actually knew.

Weaver, Hal, Max, and Dai were all sitting around a table covered in heavily marked maps. These were the people she trusted. Well, Dai still seemed a little iffy to her. She knew absolutely nothing about him and he barely ever spoke, but for some reason his silence seemed honest. He was good people.

Evelyn sat near the back of the tent in Max's wheelchair, cross-legged and rolling backwards and forwards absently while she listened to their hushed talking. Her eyes were focused intently on the back of Max's head as he hunched over the table and muttered comments about possible escape routes. Evelyn found it strange that Max had infiltrated the inner circle of military planning so suddenly. Sure he was a Recon Marine with extensive military training, a ton of experience in the field, and a good tactical mind, but he had seemed happily ensconced in the civilian sector with Cecelia and Marjorie. She had asked him what changed, but he had just given her a withering look worthy of Maggie Smith and said, "What the fuck do you think changed, Lyn?" Maggie Smith probably wouldn't have said that though. She was far too dignified.

From observing the dynamics of the room, it looked like Hal had stepped into Tom's role, advising Weaver and discussing strategy. It was a pretty advanced job for an eighteen-year old, she mused to herself, but war did seem to have a way of equalizing things, and as far as she could tell Hal was more than capable. She felt a little bubble of pride form in her chest. Good for him.

Evelyn uncrossed her legs and brought them up to her chest, continuing to roll back and forth. Suddenly the material that covered the front of the tent was ripped away and a man strode through. He was dark-skinned and tall with long hair put in corn rose, and he was wearing a sleeveless shirt and a jumpsuit that had that hung down with the arms tied around the waist. She didn't recognize him, but given the fact that his hands were stained with motor oil she inferred that he was a mechanic of some sort.

"Captain, you wanted to see me?" asked the man, whose name was apparently Jamil.

"Dai tells me that you're doing a fair job of taking over for Scott," Weaver announced. Evelyn felt a twinge of regret. That probably meant that Uncle Scott was dead. He was an old man, and the sort of caravan-style of traveling the 2nd Mass seemed to be using would have been hard on him.

"He did?" Jamil asked, shifting his gaze towards Dai, who shook his hand to indicate not to think too much of the fact. That man could be sarcastic without saying a single word. Evelyn smiled to herself. She could appreciate that in a person.

"We hope he's right," Max broke in. "We think that the aliens have re-calibrated their beamers to pick up the heat coming off our vehicles."

A quick pulse of fear ran through Evelyn's body. The enemy was adapting. She managed to shove away that feeling as soon as it had manifested and rolled forwards, coming in line with the table. "It might be some sort of infra red technology. I mean, we're never that far from out vehicles, and we're usually grouped around them, so it's a smart strategy on their part."

"Yeah," Max muttered bitterly under his breath, "they're fucking geniuses." Evelyn shot him a quick glare and he just shook his head.

"Yeah," Jamil replied shrugging his shoulders, "the girl's probably right but as long as we stay put—engines off—they won't be able to see us. We should be fine."

"Unfortunately that's not an option," Hal said quickly. "Our patrols just saw three alien units walking around out there within five miles of us. It's only a matter of time before they nail us."

Evelyn could see Jamil's face fall as she felt hers doing the same. They both seemed to understand the gravity of the situation, but Weaver needed to illustrate it a little more clearly. "We lose our vehicles, we lose our mobility and most of our supplies. We need to find a way to mask the heat coming off of those engines to put enough distance between us and those patrols. At least 20 miles."

Jamil's eyes widened in disbelief. "20 miles? That would mean keeping the engines cooled out for at least an hour." Weaver's expression hardened, making him look more grisly than ever. Jamil sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Okay, I'll try."

"You don't get points for effort," Weaver said coldly. "If we don't find a way to move those vehicles, people are going to die."

Jamil let a bitter snort of laughter. "No pressure," he said sarcastically before turning away.

Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut, trying to think. There was something on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't quite taste the right words. She felt her eyes darting back and forth below her eyelids like she was reading a book until she finally said, "Space blankets." The two words seemed to involuntarily pop out of Evelyn's mouth without her even thinking about them. Everyone in the tent turned to her, most of them staring at her like she was completely crazy. Except Jamil. He was looking at her with his eyebrows raised in interest.

"What the hell are you talking about, Lyn?" Max asked skeptically.

Evelyn quickly pushed herself off of the wheelchair, sending it flying behind her, and hesitantly stepped in front of the table. She folded her arms across her chest and cleared her throat awkwardly. "Well, it's just that—before the attack I visited the Air and Space Museum in D.C. and they had this display with the Mylar blankets. They were thin, light, and could reflect back a ridiculous amount of heat." She glanced nervously between the eyes staring at her. Public speaking had never been her forte—she hated scrutiny. Give her a conversation with one or two people and she was right as rain, but put her in front of anything that constituted a 'group' and she would clam up horribly. She shrugged her shoulders as casually as possible. "It was just a thought. I mean, I don't pretend to know a damn thing about cars. Hell, I can barely drive manual transmission."

But Max turned away from her and started nodding slowly. "You know, the Taliban used to use Mylar to hide their heat signatures. It could be a valid strategy."

Jamil ran his hand down his face and nodded as well. "Yeah, that could work if we had access to them, but we're miles away from any sporting goods store that I know of. And it might cause the engines to overheat and break down, and that would throw a monkey wrench into the works in a big way. It's a start though. I'll come up with something." Then he gave a half-hearted salute and spun on his heels, exiting the tent.

"Alright, then," Weaver said, folding up the map and arranging the papers in front of him, "we have to assume that we'll be able to move out by nightfall. Max, you put the word out to the civilians and make damn sure that it carries. Dai, you make sure the weapons and provisions are accounted for."

Weaver and Dai quickly cleared the tent, sending back a nod of recognition. Evelyn grabbed the wheelchair and moved it towards Max so she could help him back into it. As they both maneuvered he turned to her and muttered, "Your brain seems to have a mind of its own." He snorted lightly and looked back at her. "At least it's still got something worthwhile to say." Evelyn just rolled her eyes and pushed the chair as hard as she could, sending him flying straight through the tent flap.

"You know you love me!" he cried over his shoulder as his face smacked against the plastic sheeting.

"Like a tooth ache!" she shouted back.

And that left her and Hal alone in the tent. He exhaled heavily and rocked back on his heels, shoving his hands in his pockets and she bit her lip and tapped her foot nervously.

"So….." Hal drew out, "you want to go shoot something?"

"God, yes."

They both smiled, almost relieved, and Evelyn punched Hal lightly in the shoulder before turning out of the tent. They strode to the firing range in silence, and Evelyn could swear that she felt Hal glancing at her. He had been doing that since she got back, and it made her feel like he was constantly checking up on her, making sure that she wasn't about to pass out or something. But for some reason it was even more frequent now than it was the night before. The two of them had wandered off to the edge of the camp and sat on the hood of one of the cars, laying back and looking at the stars like they had done before. And then he had asked the question, the one she was afraid of.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

"Hey, Evey?" His voice had been gentle and hesitant, like he was afraid of what would come next. "What happened on the ship? What was it like?"

Evelyn let out a single snort of laughter. "You know you're the first person to actually ask me that. Everyone is dancing around the issue like if they talk I'm going to have another full-on Linda Blair episode."

"Nah," he had replied shaking his head, "I think it's that they would rather not know. That they don't want to be confronted with it. Just knowing about that kind of thing changes the dynamic between people, and it gives them something else to be scared of."

Evelyn furrowed her eyebrows. "Then why do you want to know?"

"Because I can't not know."

"Double negative," she mused, "that's tricky." She cleared her throat a bit. "Well, I have to say that the accommodations were entirely unhygienic. The food was lousy and the customer service was absolutely atrocious. I fully intend on writing a scathing review on yelp."

Hal's hand went up to his mouth to stifle his laughter. "Jesus, Evey, only you could joke about things like this. I really shouldn't be laughing." He pushed himself up on his elbows and looked down at her. "Really, Evey. No jokes this time."

Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut and felt the tremor in her hand act up a bit. Hal must have noticed because she felt a large, warm hand encircling her cold shaking one. "It was small," she said quietly. "They kept me in this pod thing and it was suffocating…and it was cold and empty. And it hurt. It hurt a lot. They had these...staffs I guess you could call them that shot this sort of electricity. They weren't shy about using them. And I got to meet the head honcho, the Overlord or whatever you want to call it, who was a total dick by the way."

Evelyn sighed started nervously running her free hand through her hair. She didn't like reliving this. She had never openly talked about it before, not even with Tom. There was an unspoken understanding that they didn't want to bring it up. But she needed to talk about it, to come to terms with it. "The Overlord was trying to sell up this bullshit story about setting up a sanctuary for human survivors, so Tom and I told it to go screw itself. And then, for some reason, it let us go. There were a lot of other people there, but they were all killed. I'm not sure why we got to live. Maybe we were the example Tom keeps talking about, the survivors that are sent back warn off everyone else. Well I say fuck that. I'd go back in a second if it meant killing them."

A single tear push its way out of the corner of her eye and track down the side of her face. "A big part of me thought I would never get to see the sky again, that I was going to fester and die in there surrounded by the scaly bastards." Hal's hand squeezed hers tighter, either out of sympathy or out of anger. Evelyn knew that she should have told Hal about the thing in her head, but she didn't want to see that suspicious look on his face every time he looked at her, wondering if she was about to turn on him. "Anyway," she said, brushing the tear away and adopting a more cheerful tone, "it's over now. I'm back, so that's that."

"Yeah," Hal replied, nodding. "I guess you just couldn't give all this up," he said, gesturing to himself.

Evelyn snorted. "Yes, Hal," she said in the most condescending tone she could muster, "it wasn't the claustrophobia or the torture or the presence of the alien menace that spurred me to get out of that ship. It was the thought of your torso, you beautiful Adonis, you."

"Knew it."

Evelyn smacked him in the chest, but started laughing despite herself. "It's like you're the Grinch, only it's your ego that's grown three sizes."

Hal shrugged his shoulders. "Well you did once call me a 'teenage Casanova'."

"Yes," she replied slowly like she was talking to small child, which, in essence, she was, "yes, but I was making fun of you. Kind of like I am right now."

"You do kind of reek of sarcasm." He threw her a cheeky smile. "But then again, all mockery starts with a grain of truth."

"No it doesn't," she replied shaking her head, "that's not a thing."

Hal chuckled lightly for a few moments and then suddenly stopped. He sat up and folded his arms around his knees.

"You know, Evey, part of me thought that that night was the last time I was ever going to see you. I'm really glad it's not."

Evelyn pulled herself up into the sitting position as well. "Me too," she said, gently nudging him. And then they were both quiet for a while, both staring out into the distance. Evelyn had a feeling that they were both thinking about the same thing. The night she had gone, the kiss, the ill-advised and unreciprocated 'I love you'. It had been three months since that had happened, with some torture, borderline starvation, and a gunshot wound thrown in between.

Hal's profile was silhouetted against the light of the camp. His features looked set, determined, maybe even stern. Three months. He had said that he wanted her and she had wanted him, but then those three months had happened. She had changed. He had changed. Her and Hal, in that moment she realized it was a child's dream of happily ever after, and happily ever afters didn't happen in a post-apocalyptic landscape, and they certainly didn't happen to her. She could picture her as a little girl with a daisy in her hand plucking petal after petal and chanting, "He loves me, he loves me not." But the daisy wasn't telling the whole truth, things were a lot more complicated than the soothsaying flower was indicating. She was broken and damaged and dying, and he had to look after his family and stay with the living. The whole situation wasn't fair to either of them. Things were different, and so she was letting him off the hook.

"Listen, Hal," she said, awkwardly fiddling with the chain around her neck, "I think we have to bring up the giant pink elephant in the room."

His head quickly snapped away from the landscape and his eyes bored into hers. She could have sworn she saw the ghost of a smile play on his lips, but it was probably just her imagination. "What do you mean?"

Evelyn rubbed at her forehead and shook her head slightly. He knew exactly what she was talking about and wasn't going to make it any easier for her. "Stop being coy, Hal."

"Never."

She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. Hal seemed to pick up on the fact that she was saying something difficult, because he quieted down. "Look, we both know that the last time we saw each other things—well, things were said and done that might suggest—well you were there. All I'm saying is that a lot can change in three months. We've both been through a lot, and the kind of things we've been through...it was an emotionally vulnerable moment with everything that was going on, and I know I have word vomit when under that kind of pressure and situations can make things confusing. I just want you to know that I'm not going to hold you to the things that were said. I wouldn't presume to do that."

Hal turned away from her and stared at the tree line in the distance. "Yeah, yeah you're right. Lots has changed with you and dad gone. That's good to know. No pressure, you know."

He was silent, which was odd, and it made Evelyn feel like she had to keep talking. "I mean, neither of us really thought I was coming back anyway."

"I did," he said quietly.

Evelyn shook her head and disbelief. "Come on, Hal, I was gone three months. Even Max gave up on me. How could you possibly think I was coming back?"

"Because you said you would."

That had made Evelyn blink in shock. "Then you are terribly naïve," she said punching him in the shoulder. "I lie all the time."

Hal didn't respond. He just pushed up off the hood of the car and took a few steps towards camp.

"It's getting late," he said with his back still turned to her, "we should get you back to camp. And I need to check in on my dad."

"Yeah," Evelyn muttered. There was a feeling of discomfort creeping into her bones.

Hal turned suddenly and started took several long steps back to the car. "Let me help you up," he muttered under his breath.

"No," she said quickly, "no, it's fine—I'm fine. Don't bother."

Hal laughed a little bit, but it seemed forced. "You must not have changed that much. You were shot 24 hours ago and here you are trying to take on the world already. Just shut up and let me help you."

"Wow," she returned with raised eyebrows, "whenever somebody tells me chivalry is dead I'll just refer them to you, won't I?"

"Just you wait," he said taking hold of her hand and easing her off the car, "pretty soon I might do something completely insane like open a door for you."

"That would require some actual doors, Hal. As far as I can see we're short of those at the moment. Until we get some doors that's just a callous and empty gesture."

He paused for a moment. "Fair point."

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

When Evelyn thought about that first conversation, she couldn't really decipher it. It was like she needed a decoder ring or something. She had tried to put some distance between the two of them—he already had one brain-jacked girlfriend, he hardly needed two. Especially if that girl came with a built-in expiration date. It was what was best for both of them. Whichever way you added it up, the end result would be the same—they would both get hurt. He would have to watch her die, and she would start wishing for more time. But she couldn't tell if Hal had recognized that. He hadn't asked her about it and hadn't tried to kiss her or anything like that so the answer was probably yes, but they were still awkward. Then again, the case could be made that Evelyn was always awkward. But they were still friends, and they still had each other's backs. At least for as long as her mind had hold of her body.

"You know, Evey," Hal said as they walked to the firing range, "for someone who's just been shot you are awfully eager to pick up a gun. It's kind of weird."

"Who has ever accused me of being normal? Tell me and I'll hunt them down." Hal chuckled as they kept walking, but it was a strange kind of sound, more angry than mirthful. His jaw was twitching as his teeth ground against each other. Evelyn knew him well enough to realize what he was thinking. She put a hand on his arm, making him stop and look back her. "Hey, I don't blame Ben for this. It was dark and Tom and I were both standing directly behind a skitter—he had no way of knowing we were there. It was like a one in a billion chance. If I don't blame him then you sure as hell can't, and you definitely can't be angry with him on my account."

"Anyway," Evelyn continued, "I don't have a problem with guns providing I'm on the right side of one. Shooting relaxes me. It—it makes sense to me, it's simple. It's all physics, math. If you plug in the appropriate variables, distance, gravitational pull, wind resistance, you add it up and it comes out right. It's cathartic, you know, satisfying. Math is always satisfying because there is always one answer. Everything else gets messed up, complicated, and unpredictable."

Hal let out a low whistle. "Wow. I knew you were a nerd but just—wow. Shooting relaxes you because of…math. This is like an entire new level of nerditude that I didn't even know existed."

She poked him hard in the shoulder. "Hey, this nerd is a friggin' awesome shot, so you better check yourself before you wreck yourself."

"Duly noted."

They rounded the corner into an open area, under the bridge and surrounded by forest. Either side of the area sloped down towards the bottom, making it a perfect place for target practice. You could shoot straight and run absolutely no risk of injuring anybody. You would see anyone long before they came within range. That was the first thing Evelyn noticed. The second was that she and Hal were not alone.

Hal started walking faster, leaving her behind him and approaching the figures. Evelyn looked at the taller one. She recognized him. Only the last time she had seen him he was a lot shorter and a lot scrawnier.

"Hey, Ben!" Hal shouted. Evelyn could hear the edge in his voice. This was not going to be an amicable encounter. "What's Matt doing with a gun?"

"Ben's teaching me to shoot!" It was Matt's small voice the responded. It was torn between enthusiastic and worried, like a kid who had been caught stealing from the cookie jar, but who really, _really_ enjoyed the cookie he was eating. However, when Evelyn came up and stood by Hal's shoulder he quickly averted his gaze and had the grace to look guilty. She had known that he was lying last night when he said he would wait, but she had no idea he would be breaking his promise this quickly.

"Matt, I thought we talked about this," she said from behind Hal's shoulder.

Matt's head drooped as he looked down at his shoes, digging one of them into the dirt absently. "I guess I wasn't done talking." Evelyn took a deep breath and tried not to be angry. She understood why Matt wanted this, but she did not want it for him.

But Hal wasn't looking at Matt. "Ben," he said bitterly, "what the hell is this?"

Ben looked straight into Hal's eyes. He seemed to be avoiding looking at Evelyn entirely. "I figured it was time for Matt to learn to defend himself," he said in a defiant voice.

Hal let out a snort of frustration. "So you just gave him a rifle without asking me?"

Ben just shrugged his shoulders and held his ground. "I might have to follow your orders out on missions…but not here."

Evelyn blinked. She had been thinking about how time changes things since she returned to the 2nd Mass—hell since she got off that ship—but this exact moment in time it had been summarized for her in thirty seconds. There had always been a bit of a sibling rivalry between Ben and Hal. Hal was a jock. Not the stereotypical stupid kind, he was smart, but he was still a jock. Ben, on the other hand, had been a bit of a nerd. Evelyn didn't say that disparagingly, she had been a nerd herself. In reality she thought that Hal was every bit as smart as Ben, but his priorities had been geared more towards athleticism than books. But Hal had always had the muscle, the physical authority in the relationship. Now the two of them were toe-to-toe, and Evelyn could feel the resentment building up between them. It was like there was a thick layer of static electricity hanging in the air. If you moved, you would get shocked.

Stepping forward, Hal grabbed the rifle out of Matt's hand and pulled out the mag. It was full. Evelyn sucked in a breath as Hal turned to look at Matt accusingly. "Get back to camp, Matt." This time his voice was more disappointed than angry.

"But—" Matt tried to prostest.

Evelyn leveled him with a strong stare. "Matt, just don't."

Matt's head sagged again as he shuffled away, dragging his feet in the most theatrical way possible. The three people left in that clearing watched him round the corner and leave.

"You know," Hal said, turning back to Ben, "maybe he's ready and maybe he's not, but we both know this isn't what dad wanted for him."

Hal turned to leave, but Ben shouted after him. "Three months ago. How do you know what he's say now?"

"I don't know what he'd say now," Hal bit back. "And neither do you. So how about we wait and let dad make that decision."

Evelyn could feel the hostility rising. The static was getting thicker. Deep down in her gut she knew this conversation was going to end badly.

"The only way we win this war is by killing every skitter we see," Ben replied. His tone was almost patronizing. "If Matt's old enough to load a gun, he's old enough to shoot it."

Hal bit his lip and his eyes widened. He was getting angry, really angry. Evelyn tried to put a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off as he turned to Ben again. "After what happened to dad, and to Evey here, do you really think you're the one to be giving lessons?"

Evelyn shook her head. "Hal, don't—"

But Ben cut her off, taking a few steps towards Hal, like he was posturing or something. "I just don't want them to take Matt like they took me or Evey." Hal started to walk away, but Ben shouted after him, taunting. "Or your _other_ girlfriend, Karen."

Evelyn's stomach clenched. Karen. She was always the weak spot, the place you want to poke if you fully intend to hurt someone. There was a second of inaction before Hal whirled and ran full-tilt towards Ben, his hands outstretched like he was going to strangle his younger brother. Evelyn was about to cry out for Hal to stop, but then Ben grabbed his forearms, twisting them back and forcing Hal to his knees.

"I'm not the math geek you used to push around," he spat as Hal struggled against him. "Deal with it." Then Ben threw Hal to the ground and walked off without another word, to her or to Hal. Evelyn's mouth gaped in shock. It probably wasn't a flattering picture, but she simply couldn't think of anything else to say or do in the face of such a display.

Hal quickly jumped to his feet, trying his best not to seem weak in comparison. Under normal circumstances Evelyn would have called him out on his ego, this was different. He pointed after Ben accusingly, his chest still heaving as he tried to catch his breath from the effort. He pointed after Ben almost accusingly. "It's like I don't even know him anymore."

He spun around, driving both of his hands into his hair and clutching at his scalp, some thing he always did when he was stressed out and didn't know what to do to fix it. Evelyn wanted to hug him and tell him everything would be okay, but she knew he wouldn't accept that. Not now, not so soon. She turned and looked after Ben as he strutted away in a fashion to self-satisfied for her to accept. "Hal," she shouted over her shoulder, "you're going to have to excuse me for a moment."

"Why?" he asked, his voice still frustrated.

"Because I am going to go kick your brother's ass."

As she turned to stalk after the young boy she had considered a brother, that's when it struck her. Things had changed in more ways than she knew.

**Alright, I'm really not all that happy with this chapter, which is part of why it took me so long to post it. The beginning and the end are okay, I guess. I felt like the space blankets thing was a bit stupid, but I was rewatching the episode and thought, "Eureka! Space blankets!" so I validated myself by including them in my chapter.**

**Anyway, I'm trying to put some distance between Hal and Evey. Evey's going to be pulling away from him a bit. They'll find their way back to each other, don't worry, but it will take some time. She doesn't trust herself around people, so she definitely doesn't trust herself around the Masons, and that will last for quite a bit of this story. UST is my thing, so...**

**Please review. Pretty please.  
**

**P.S. I feel like the song 'Dead Hearts' by Stars is perfect for Hal and Evey. What do you think? Sound off below.  
**

**Side note: Everyone here needs to start watching the show 'Community' right now. Seriously, it is one of the most hilarious programs on television and it doesn't get the recognition it deserves. I refer you to the youtube vid:  
**

** watch?v=IIQQOPkXTwc  
**


	7. In Your Darkest Hour

**Hello again guys! I would just like to thank all of you for reading/reviewing/following.**

**Disclaimer: Like you guys really need me to say it...I do not own Falling Skies. SPIELBERG *shakes fist* Any dialogue you recognize was taken from the show (and I hope that I'm not being too unoriginal with my storytelling, but I'm going to have it follow Season 2)**

**Photos of my OCs are on my profile (Just copy/paste the URLs and delete the spaces)**

**I have also developed a soundtrack. It's on my profile as a different story. Chapter 1 is TSKoB and chapter 2 is ADToW.**

Chapter 6 – In Your Darkest Hour

"Hey!" Evelyn shouted at the top of her lungs. Or at least tried to shout. Her voice cracked and came out as a sort of croaking noise that sounded a bit like a dying frog. Her voice was still weak from disuse. She was stomping after the retreating figure of Ben, and came to the conclusion that the back of his head was one of the most irritating images on the face of the planet. Ben didn't respond to any of her shouts and just kept walking, which sent her fuming. She leaned to the ground and grabbed a dried up chunk of dirt, throwing it at him so it collided with the back of his head and exploded into a cloud of dust. "God damnit, Ben, you turn around and look at me when I speak to you, you ungrateful little jerk!"

That made Ben stop in his tracks. He didn't turn around, but just stood there with his back to her, waiting for her to catch up. As she approached she realized how much taller he had gotten. It was unsettling. She tapped him on the shoulder and he slowly turned around, glowering down at her with an expression that looked partly guilty, but mostly defiant.

"Ben, what the hell—"

"Evey, I'm so sorry that I shot you," he said, cutting her off. "I—I really didn't mean to. It was dark and the skitters—And I'm sorry for not visiting you after. But—"

Evelyn didn't wait for the excuses she knew he was about to make, not after the display she had just seen between him and Hal. She reached up and grabbed hold of his ear, dragging him after her, away from camp, as he yelled in protest. When she managed to get him into the surrounding forest, out of the view of everyone else, she pushed him down to the ground with a loud thump.

"Ow!" Ben yelled as he hit the floor. "Evey, I said I was sorry! It wasn't on purpose—"

"I don't give a crap that you shot me Ben!" she returned, causing him to blink in surprise. "I'm not petty enough to stay mad at you about something that was clearly an accident. I'm not even mad at you for avoiding me, because I get that whole self-flagellating guilt thing. I've been known to participate in that myself."

"Then why—"

Evelyn held up a hand, effectively cutting him off. "What I _am_ angry about is what happened with you and Hal back there. What the fuck was that?"

Ben pushed himself to his feet and shrugged his shoulders, folding his arms across his chest in a defensive posture. "Hal and I disagree about Matt, that's all. He thinks that Matt needs to stay a kid. He thinks that I'm still a kid. He just doesn't get that there's no such thing as being a kid anymore. If you stay innocent, you become vulnerable. We need to wipe out each and every one of those skitters, to blow them all straight to hell, and that means putting a gun in the hands in every person willing to carry one, and that includes Matt. We can't afford idealism, not now. Idealism is for after we wipe them out, until then all we have is cold, hard reality. We all fight or we all die, it's as simple as that."

Then Evelyn looked at Ben, really looked at him. He was so different from the boy she remembered. He had cut his hair short, so it lost its floppy, slightly dopey appearance. He had also lost the last bit of baby fat around his face, leaving him with a strong jaw and defined muscles. But the real differences weren't in the physiology, but in the expression. Everything about him was closed off. His shoulders were hunched forward, but his spine was rigid. And his face. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were hard. There was a dormant hostility etched into his features, an anger simmering just below the surface of his skin. It wasn't that burning sort anger that makes you lash out in the heat of the moment. It the cold kind, the kind that was always there, just waiting for the next opportunity to reveal itself in a socially acceptable way, by killing skitters. His was the face of revenge.

Evelyn felt an involuntary shudder move down her spine. Her head sagged and she looked down at her feet. Taking a deep, steadying breath she glanced back up at Ben through her eyelashes. He was staring back with his eyebrows raised, like he was waiting for her to argue with him. The thing was, part of her agreed. They did need to get everybody into the fight, but it needed to be in the right way. Throw an eager little kid like Matt into the fray he could shoot early, give away their position, try and go Rambo and get themselves or someone else killed. Ben, he was a good fighter, but he had that kind of eagerness in him. More than an eagerness. It was a need, a need to shoot and to fight and to kill, and though she didn't blame him for it, it was that need that had gotten her and Tom shot. She didn't want to argue with Ben, it wouldn't do her any good.

"What happened to you, Ben?" she whispered harshly. She could hear the accusing note in her voice and she wished it wasn't there, but she just couldn't help it. "What happened to make you so _angry_ with….well, with everything?"

"I grew up."

"That's bullshit, Ben," Evelyn spat back, poking him hard in the chest with an angry finger. "Something had to have happened. Or at least I hope something happened because I sure as hell hope that this version of you wasn't inevitable. Goading Hal like that? Bringing up Karen? Since when do you try to hurt the people you love? Right now I look at you and all I'm seeing is spite wrapped in apathy, and I kind of hate it. So tell me what happened so I can fix it, because I want the Ben I know back."

Ben uncrossed his arms and shoved his hands in his pockets. He let out a cruel snort and a cold smile graced his once hopeful face. "It's not something you can fix, Evey. What the hell do you think happened, Evey? They took everything. First they took my mind, then my ability to trust myself. They took my dad. You were the only person who ever seemed to have any idea what I was going through and they took you. And they took you by using me. Hal told me how they got you on that ship. It was because of me. It's always because of me."

Those words were like a knife to the gut. "Ben, it's not—"

"DON'T TELL ME IT'S NOT MY FAULT!" he screamed. "I know that it wasn't down to me, that it was the skitters, but it still _feels_ like it was my fault. And it doesn't stop Hal from thinking that it was my fault. It's in his eyes sometimes. When he's looking at me and he doesn't think I know it. It's like I can see inside his head. He's thinking that if I wasn't around, all the other bad stuff would have never happened."

Evelyn stepped forward and put a hand on Ben's arm, but he yanked it away like her touch burned him. "I don't blame you Ben, and Tom sure as hell doesn't. It was our decision and not yours. It's not on you."

"Yeah, well what happened to Amy is."

Every muscle in her body clenched. "What are you talking about?"

Ben shook his head and rubbed at his forehead. "They didn't tell you?" Evelyn shook her head. "That figures. I guess they didn't want to traumatize you any more than you already were," he muttered with bitterness in his voice. "After you got on the ship with my dad, Amy and I both started fighting. She was a good shot—really good. About a month after you left we were in an ambush and the two of us got pinned down. We had to make a break for it. I got back to the rest of the unit, she didn't. I thought she was right behind me, but then I turn around and she's being dragged away by a skitter."

Evelyn collapsed against the tree behind her. She could feel her chest constricting as she struggled for breath. She realized she wasn't crying at the news and that made her feel a bit guilty. More than anything else she felt numb. Amy had been the little sister she never wanted in the first place. She was loud, brash, never stopped talking, and there didn't seem to be any filter between her brain and her mouth, but she had somehow managed to worm her way into Evelyn's heart. And it wasn't in spite of all those things that made her vaguely obnoxious, it was because of them. Amy was completely fearless when it came to people, so it made sense that she was fearless when it came to the skitters too.

Evelyn slid down the surface of the tress. She could feel the rough bark scratching at the fabric of her shirt as she sank to the ground. The pine needles that littered the forest floor made a comfortable seat, but they didn't block out the cold that seeped into Evelyn's body. Her legs were bent in some unnatural position. It hurt a bit, but she couldn't make herself move them.

"Is she dead?" Evelyn whispered quietly.

"Who knows? If she's not then she's been harnessed by now. I tried to go back and look for her, but the skitters they were—they were just gone. They just disappeared."

Ben took a few steps forward and sat down next to her. The two of them were quiet for a long time before he finally broke the silence. "I'm not angry at everyone else, Evey. I'm angry them, for coming for me and for making me the reason for so many bad things happening. And I _hate_ them. I hate them with everything I have for what they did to me, for changing me. It's what keeps me sane, you know, what keeps me in my head. I hate them as hard as I can and that way I know that they don't have me."

Evelyn's head snapped around so quickly that she felt some of the vertebrae crack. "Ben, that's not healthy. That is so far from healthy—"

"It's what you told me to do, Evey."

Evelyn froze. "What?"

"You said that as long as I hated the skitters, I wouldn't be like Rick."

A wave of nausea suddenly hit her stomach, like her body was physically rejecting the idea that she had helped shape this new version of Ben. She began shaking her head almost violently. "No. No. You can hate them, Ben. We all hate them. But that hate can't be everything you live for. It can't be the only thing that drives you, or soon enough that's all you'll have left. That's not living. It's not a life worth living. And if you keep going with this one-man-army act you're going to get yourself, or more likely get someone else killed."

Ben growled audibly and pushed himself up to his feet, taking several angry steps away from her. When he spun around she could see the fire in his eyes. "You were supposed to be the one who understood," he said in a low voice. "You were always the one who understood. You always knew what was wrong before. I never had to tell you, you just knew. You told me how I felt and you were always right. And you always helped. What changed?"

Evelyn looked up at him with sad eyes. "You did, Ben."

Without another word Ben spun around and stalked off through the trees. She shouted after him, but he didn't respond. He grew smaller and faded into the distance. She lost two friends today. One was God knows where and suffering from God knows what, and she was watching the other one walk away from her. She slammed her fist hard into her forehead, letting the physical pain distract from the emotional.

"Well, shit."

Maybe it could be salvaged. Maybe things would fix themselves. At least she hoped they would before they became even more broken than they already were.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

By the time Evelyn had the wherewithal to move from that spot on the forest floor, night had already fallen. She needed to think about everything that had happened, to come to terms with it. She knew coming back that the 2nd Mass would be different from how she left it. Tom acted as a major stabilizing agent in the decision-making process, and without it there would be some degree of dysfunction, but this thing with Ben was way, way bigger than that. It was a total reversal of personality. He went from being shy and sweet to angry and hostile. She suspected that losing Amy may have had a lot to do with it. She could understand his anger, she felt it herself, but his transformation scared her. The cold wasn't the only thing causing her to shiver.

Eventually she managed to haul herself to her feet and start moving. A thick layer of clouds covered the stars and the moon. It was pitch black except for the dim glow of the camp in the distance, but somehow she could still make out the edges of the leaves on the trees around her. She wrapped her arms around her torso to guard herself from the cold as she trudged back towards the lights.

As Evelyn reached the tree line she paused for a moment, leaning against a tall pine. Everybody was moving quickly, breaking down the tents and packing up supplies. She picked up a foot to step forward, but then replaced it. There was a small voice in her head telling her to run, to turn around and head back into the forest. Everything and everyone felt broken: the 2nd Mass, Ben, Tom, her. She could even rationalize her way into saying that it was the right thing to do, that by leaving she was protecting them from the thing in her head. But that would be a lie. Leaving would be the easy way out, the coward's way, and she wasn't a coward. Staying was hard, but it was right.

Picking up her foot again, she broke the invisible line that divided her from the 2nd Mass. She was staying, and that meant that she had to do something important. Picking her way through the people, she made her way towards Weaver's tent. As she stood near the camouflaged fabric she could hear two voices, one belonging to Weaver and the other belonging to Anne. Evelyn surreptitiously glanced around the corner and saw the two of them sitting at a table and drinking what looked like a bottle of scotch. Weaver had a sad expression on his face.

"—if he'd been here he would have warned me that we were pushing our luck. He would've warned me," Weaver said, staring at the brown liquid in his glass like he was looking for answers in it. He let out a deep, tired sigh. "But he weren't here. Second guessing doesn't change where we are."

Anne shook her head. "I think you're wrong," Anne replied in that comforting, motherly voice of hers. "I remember something he told me once about making the price of the occupation so high the aliens have to leave. He would have said that your strategy is risky, but worth it. And when he wakes up, he's going to be proud we're still fighting."

Weaver's lips quirked upwards. They didn't form a smile, but his face looked less severe. "Hell, he may even have a historical anecdote to put it all into perspective." Evelyn felt herself smiling in response, but her smile faltered when Weaver's face became harsh again. "We need to know what happened on that ship. Maybe the bastards let somethin' slip that could help us out in the long run."

"Well he can't tell us while he's unconscious," Anne replied, taking a sip of her scotch.

Weaver rubbed at his chin, something he seemed to do when he was considering options he didn't like. "Tom wasn't the only one on that ship."

"No," Anne said immediately. "We can't push her, not now, not so soon after it happened."

"It ain't like we got a lot of options," the gravelly voice responded.

"You saw her after she got back," Anne said with a pleading expression on her face. "She was bordering on a mental breakdown. We can't make her relive that. She might—"

Evelyn decided she had heard enough. She ripped the curtain aside and stepped through, making the adults turn to face her, both faces colored in surprise. "I'm a big girl, Anne," she said taking a few steps to the table. "I'm not going to break if the questions get too hard."

Evelyn grabbed a glass and uncapped the scotch, watching as the liquid spilled, casting the dim light every which-way. She pulled a chair up to the rickety card table that constituted the whole of the 2nd Mass's 'war room' and took a long sip, probably with more enthusiasm than an 18-year-old should show. Then again circumstances had changed since the invasion. She wasn't some freshman coed at some frat party. She was in the middle of a war.

The scotch scorched her throat as it went down, but it felt good and smooth. She swallowed and looked between the two of them, Weaver and Anne. She couldn't think of two members of the 2nd Mass any more different than that pair, but they were the two she most needed to talk to. "I'll tell you everything I know."

Anne leaned forward across the table and grabbed her hand. "Evelyn, you don't have to—"

"Yes, I do Anne," she said in a determined voice. "My feelings are hardly a priority here."

Weaver leaned back in his chair, his hand still clutching the glass that rested on the table. "What do you know?" he asked gruffly.

Evelyn took another sip, coughing a bit as it went down. "Not much that's relevant to our current situation, unfortunately. I can't tell you much about the ship's layout either. They kept me locked up most of the time. Tom and I talked with the Overlord once that I'm aware of—he might have seen it more than once, but he never said so—and it was spinning some yarn about providing use with a sanctuary. That they would cordon off some piece of land and let survivors live there unmolested. Personally I think it was a load of crap and that they were trying to find a way to round us up and kill us in one fell swoop."

"I would have to agree with that," Weaver stated

"Yeah," Evelyn said nodding. "I didn't get much face time with the thing, so I can't say much about its intentions. But I will say this. I think every one of those fish-head Overlord aliens are of incalculable value to their invasion."

Weaver furrowed his eyebrows quizzically. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well there was only one of them on the ship," she replied. "Tons of skitters, only one Overlord. We've only ever seen the skitters controlling like six harnessed kids at a time. Now that we know the skitters are harnessed, we have to assume that they're being controlled by the fish heads. And I'm pretty sure there were dozens of skitters on that ship—maybe even a hundred—and the fish head was controlling all of them. It may even be controlling some on the ground from a distance. It must take massive intellect to have that kind of control. It also had this massive throne room thing going on. And it seems to have a ridiculously high regard for individual safety, like it doesn't understand how we sacrifice ourselves for the cause. I think it's a cultural thing. Each individual is far more precious to them than it seems to be to us. I think that's because each and every one of them is integral."

Anne and Weaver were completely silent, making Evelyn feel slightly uncomfortable. "Or I could be completely off-base and making random assumptions. I didn't have much to think about these past few weeks, so that's just been floating around in my mind."

"It's an interesting theory," Weaver said, leaning forward and placing his elbows on the table, "but it doesn't have much bearing on our situation now."

Evelyn nodded in understanding, and bit her lip anxiously. She knew what she had to do next, and she was going for it. "There's something else I need to say. It's not about the skitters—well at least not completely. It's –it's about me."

Anne seemed to sense her discomfort because she nodded encouragingly and gave Evelyn a soft smile. "It's okay, Evelyn," she said in her most comforting voice. "You can tell us."

Evelyn ran a hand down her face, rubbing at her eyes. "I guess I best start from the very beginning." She took a deep breath and continued. "Well, for starters I have a brain tumor, pilocytic astrocytoma—" She could see Anne's face color with shock and her mouth open to protest but she held up a hand to cut off the woman's pity. "Just don't. It's not something we can change so it's not something we should worry about." Anne opened her mouth to protest again, but closed it when she saw the pleading expression on Evelyn's face. Weaver didn't say anything. He just seemed to be retreating into himself. Taking another small swig of scotch, Evelyn continued. "Anyway, the skitters knew. They said that Rick told them about it—that he could hear it like he could hear the skitter frequencies. I remember pretty much everything from when I was on ship, but some of it is fuzzy around the edges. And I remember metal and cold and cutting. I think you caught wind of some of that while I was hallucinating. I remember some of that as well. I think that those fuzzy bits- I think that when they took me they cut into me, and I think they did something with the tumor, altered it somehow."

Evelyn grabbed one of each of their hand's and pulled it to the back of her neck. "Feel," she said, pressing their fingers down. "There's something there that shouldn't be, and I don't know what it's for. I still feel like me inside my head. My feelings, my knowledge, my thought process, none of that had changed. But I think some things have changed."

"What?" Anne asked anxiously.

Evelyn cleared her throat. This was the first time she was talking about this. It was her first time actively thinking about it too, mostly she tried to shunt that knowledge aside and think about puppies and rainbows. "I don't get tired anymore," she said quietly. "I mean, I get sleepy, but my muscles don't get tired, like all the sudden I have more endurance. No lactic acid buildup or whatever, my muscles just seem to work more efficiently. And my vision is better, my hearing too. And I'm healing faster than I should." She stood up from the table and pulled up her shirt, peeling away the bandages that covered the bullet wound. She had checked it earlier when it had started itching and was shocked to find that new skin had already started growing. "You can't tell me that's normal, Anne."

Sitting back down, Evelyn drained the rest of her scotch and stared intently at the glass, moving it so that it would catch the light. Weaver and Anne were both silent, leaving her with the crashing noises and loud conversations of the people outside the tent. Evelyn could hear the sound of the second hand of the watch on Weaver's wrist. Tik, tik, tik.

"I'll leave," she said quietly, refusing to look up from her glass. "If you think I'm too dangerous or don't want me around, then I'll leave tonight. I can take care of myself out there. I fully understand that I'm a liability. I probably shouldn't have come back to begin with, but Tom wouldn't have left me behind, and he definitely needed to find his way back here."

"You're not leaving." Weaver's gruff voice came out slowly and steadily, like he was thinking about every single word.

Evelyn's head shot up to look at him. "I'm not?"

Weaver shook his head. "The skitters may have given you a tune-up, but the first thing you did was come here and tell me about it. They haven't got your brain, you still have your mind."

"But just because I have it today doesn't mean I'll have it tomorrow."

"And just because you have that thing in your head doesn't mean that you won't keep your mind," Anne's soft voice added.

"The way I see it," Weaver said taking another drink, "we've got spiked kids fighting for us. There's no difference between you and Ben Mason. I will, however, be watching you closely."

"I wouldn't expect anything else," Evelyn muttered.

Weaver put the glass back down on the table and studied her face intently. "Who else knows?" he asked.

"Just Tom and the two of you."

"We'll keep it that way for now," he said looking poignantly at her and Anne. "We don't need to go making a fuss if one isn't necessary."

Evelyn nodded, and then looked at Weaver seriously. "If you even get a whiff of funny behavior," she said in a low voice, "or that I'm somehow unwittingly helping the skitters, I want you to put a bullet straight between my eyes. No questions asked, no inquiry no investigation. Just do it. I'm ready to die. I've accepted its inevitability for a while now, so don't go getting weepy or sentimental about it. I'm asking this as a favor more than anything else. If I do anything crazy or hazardous, I'll waste myself, but I can't be the last line of defense."

She could feel Anne shuddering next to her, but she kept her eyes trained on Weaver. He paused a moment and then nodded slowly. "Understood."

After an intense moment of staring, the sound of footsteps emerged from the rabble of noise outside. They were approaching. All the sudden Jamil burst into the tent with a wide smile on his face, throwing a pile of trash on the table.

"What the hell is this?" Weave demanded.

"Fiber glass," Jamil said quickly. "It's an insulator and these warehouses are full of it. We wrap our engines with it, we've got a good hour before it heats through."

Weaver stood up suddenly. "I want people going through every house, every warehouse on the block. We're moving out ASAP."

Just as Jamil ducked out, more footsteps approached, only this time the person was running. "Dr. Glass!" a familiar voice shouted. Ben suddenly appeared in the tent looking worried. Evelyn threw herself to her feet. There was only one thing that could make Ben that worried. "It's my dad," Ben continued anxiously. "Something's wrong."

Anne took one last glance at Evelyn and then she was out the door.

Evelyn felt a thick knot twist in the base of her stomach. Solutions and problems. They weren't out of the woods yet. They were far, far from it.

**So there's her reveal. In my mind Evelyn had to tell them everything, her conscience wouldn't allow for anything else. I hope that Weaver letting her stay was realistic enough since she is a potential liability to the 2nd Mass. But he kept Ben and Tom even though there was something potentially wrong with them, so I figured it was consistent. I also hope this new season 2 Ben came out OK, what with the hostility and all that. I'm feeling a bit insecure about this chapter over all, so…...**

**Thanks to Geekman-1, XDLoveLoverLoved, LucyRider17, and Katie for reviewing.**

**Please review! It gives me enthusiasm for the project when I know that people are reading and enjoying the story.**

**Reviews kill skitters! So review, pretty please.**


	8. The Eleventh Hour

**Hello again guys! I would just like to thank all of you for reading/reviewing/following.**

**Disclaimer: Like you guys really need me to say it...I do not own Falling Skies. SPIELBERG *shakes fist* Any dialogue you recognize was taken from the show (and I hope that I'm not being too unoriginal with my storytelling, but I'm going to have it follow Season 2)**

**Photos of my OCs are on my profile (Just copy/paste the URLs and delete the spaces)**

**I have also developed a soundtrack. It's on my profile as a different story. Chapter 1 is TSKoB and chapter 2 is ADToW.**

Chapter 7 – The Eleventh Hour

Controlled chaos. That was the only way Evelyn could describe what was going on outside Weaver's tent. It looked like every single member of the 2nd Mass was running around like chickens with their heads cut off, but by some miracle each and every one of them seemed to be fulfilling a distinct purpose. Some were raiding warehouses for the fiberglass, some were loading trucks, some were loading weapons. Weaver had left with Jamil to organize the 'strategic retreat' and Anne had run off with Ben to see to Tom, leaving Evelyn alone in the tent to watch.

Everything seemed to be moving, swirling in a vortex of energy, but there was one spot where things seemed to stay still. The eye of the hurricane. Of course it was the medical bus. That's where Tom was. Tom always seemed to manage to put himself at the center of things. It was like the post-apocalyptic skitter-verse had some creepy infatuation with him. And that begged the question: why him? Maybe it was his charisma. Maybe it was his knowledge of history. Maybe it was his unrelenting idealistic vision for the future. Either way something seemed to have stuck a giant sign on his back that read 'I am important', and she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Evelyn dodged between the roving people and moved towards the bus to find out what was going on with Tom. Every time he seemed to be making any semblance of a recovery he relapsed and it was seriously beginning to piss her off. And worry her of course. As she approached the bus she heard a vague commotion inside. She squinted her eyes in effort, trying to find out what was going on, and her senses seemed to hone in from a distance, blocking out all the interfering noise of the camp.

"—must have missed a fragment," Anne's voice said. "He feels feverish, too."

"We still have a few bottles of IV antibiotic," Lourdes said urgently. Then there was a hasty "I'm sorry, Ben," and the sound of curtains sliding shut.

Evelyn blinked rapidly, stumbling a bit as someone collided with her shoulder and muttered angrily for her to get the hell out of the way. She was in a bit of a fog. Focusing her hearing seemed to make her vision go a bit bleary. When everything finally came back into focus she realized that she was standing still in the middle of heavy foot-traffic about ten meters away from the medical bus. Ben was slowly descending the stairs and leaned against the side. He looked tired, not in the physical way, but in the emotional one. It had been hours since he stormed away from her in the woods, and the anger seemed to have left him. It was almost as if that anger was what was keeping him standing up straight. Leaning against that bus his head and shoulders sagged like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

Taking a deep breath, Evelyn made her way towards him, leaning on the bus a few feet away from him. He didn't say a word to her. He just kept staring forward, but the clenching and unclenching of his jaw told her that he knew she was there. Evelyn sighed and followed his gaze to look out at the teeming people.

"You know," she said in a casual voice, "it's times like this that I understand why people smoke. When you're smoking you can just stand around and nobody looks at you funny or is suspicious of it. It's like a cigarette gives you free range to loiter and be creepy anywhere you want."

"I think the fact that my dad's dying on the other side of that wall is enough of an excuse," he muttered bitterly.

"He's not going to die, Ben."

Ben dug the toe of his boot into the dirt below him, digging a small hole like his was trying to dig himself an escape route. "Why are you talking to me, Evey?" he asked in a tired voice. "You seem to think that I'm a lost cause, so why are bothering with me right now?"

"I don't think that you're a lost cause," she murmured. "You'll never be a lost cause, Ben. Not to me. I just think you're wrong."

"Why?" he asked with an edge of hostility in his voice. "I have something that keeps me going, keeps me fighting. How could that be wrong? It gets the job done, so what the hell is the problem?"

Evelyn pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. "You're holding on to your anger to make sure they don't have a hold on you, but if you keep doing that it's just going to make you more like them. No empathy, no sympathy, just the fight. That's the skitters, not us." Ben still hadn't looked at her. He just kept looking at the ground and tracing lines in the dirt. Evelyn slammed her head back into the bus in frustration. "Damnit, Ben! You can't keep doing this. You can't keep pushing people away like you did with Hal this morning. If you keep burning bridges, eventually people are going to stop trying to build them. You'll end up alone on the island of you going crazy and talking to a volley ball with a bloody handprint for a face."

In spite of the harsh anxiety in her tone, Ben gave off a light snort of laughter which made Evelyn smile. He finally turned to look at her and she saw the first glimpse of that young kid she thought of as her little brother. "What about your bridge?" he asked quietly.

Evelyn rolled against the bus so she was leaning her shoulder and head and facing Ben. "I'm not a dumbass," she said with a bit of a smirk. "I'm building my bridge out of concrete and reinforced steel. You couldn't light that sucker on fire if you tried."

"That's good to know," he murmured under his breath. He rolled to his side so that he was looking at her as well. "If hate doesn't work, what is it that you do? What's your 'viable alternative'?"

Evelyn scrunched up her face uncomfortably. "Would it sound really cheesy if I said that it was the power of love?"

"Yes, absolutely it would."

Evelyn laughed lightly and shook her head self-consciously. "Fuck it. That's still my answer. And even though it sounds like I'm pontificating and that I'm full of it, that's still going to be my answer. It's probably going to sound like some ridiculous speech from a movie, but instead of just trying to fight against them, try fighting for something instead. Love builds, hate destroys. Hate might work for now, but it won't sustain itself forever. It's too exhausting. But if you fight to keep the people you love safe, it's productive rather than destructive. That's something you'd want to have whether or not you're in the fight."

Ben let out a long, slow breath like he was trying to completely empty his lungs of air. "How do you forgive so easily, Evey? I don't get it. Hal told me about all the times he was a jerk to you and then you forgave him like a few hours later. I thought that was just 'cause you were you and Hal was Hal, but here you are with me doing the same thing. It just—I just don't understand how you can just let everything go."

Evelyn reached up to grab hold of the loose strands of hair that had fallen out of the messy bun and started twirling them between her fingers. "I don't know, Ben," she said through a sigh. "I guess when you don't have that much time left, you don't let yourself waste it. Especially not on the petty things like name-calling. Grudges are a waste of time, and if you cling to them they taint everything else."

Ben threw a few hesitant glances her way. She saw some of that awkward, fidgety energy from before he turned into a pseudo-superhero. "What to you mean you don't have much time left?"

"I know you know about me and my short shelf life," she said quietly. A look of mild shock flitted across his face, so she opted to elaborate. "When I got on the ship, the Overlord knew—it knew about my, er, my condition. It said that Rick told them, that he could hear the tumor in my head because it broadcast on a frequency close to the one the skitters were using. If Rick knew then you did too." Her eyes snapped to Ben's who squirmed a bit under her gaze. "You did know, didn't you?"

Ben gave a small nod and scratched at the back of his neck, running his thumb self-consciously over the spikes. "Yeah, I knew. I didn't know what I was hearing at first, but when I saw the scar I put two and two together. I didn't say anything because—well because nobody else knew and I figured you wanted to keep it to yourself. It was your secret to tell, not mine."

There was another question to ask. A giant, neon flashing light of a question. Evelyn bit her lip nervously and stared intently at her feet. "What do you hear now?"

"It used to just be a bit of a whispering noise, like wind whistling, but it's changed some. Now it's this louder humming noise. Like the sound a microwave makes."

Her eyelids shut almost involuntarily. Her suspicions were confirmed. She had been changed, altered, by them. "I was on that ship for a long time…." Her words petered into a dead silence. The white noise of the camp around them was like white noise in her ears, she couldn't really distinguish between any sounds. She knew she could if she tried, but she really didn't want to. When she opened her eyes again, Ben was staring at her intently. "You're not the only one who's scared that they've changed you. That's why you need to stick with your family now more than ever. Even when you fight with Hal."

"Productive rather than destructive."

"Exactly." Evelyn rolled so that her back was pressed against the bus once again, and looked out over the preparations. A slow, sly smile spread across her face as an idea occurred to her. "Although," she said, turning back to Ben, "sometimes a little destruction can be a good thing."

When Ben saw the expression on her face his eyes widened a bit and he started slowly shaking his head. "No. No, no, no. I recognize that face, Evey. That's your 'I have an idea face', and I know that that's a bad face. The last time you had that face you convinced me to help you blow up Mrs. Haversham's mailbox."

She shrugged nonchalantly. "We had to use those firecrackers somehow. And you had fun."

"I was nine! Who blows up stuff when they're nine?"

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Clearly you were less of a baby then than you are now."

"Evey!"

"Come on, Ben," she pleaded. "If I've got a plan that could potentially save lives, are you seriously going to ignore it because of Mrs. Harversham's mailbox?"

Ben sighed and brought his hands to the top of his head and mussed with his hair. He pushed himself off the bus and turned to face her. "Okay, then," he said with a grimace on her face. "What's the plan?"

The grin that followed was worthy of the Cheshire cat.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

The initial idea had started out easy. It had just popped into her head like some unknown figure had whispered it into her ear. The planning stage had been fairly easy as well. It had only taken about a half hour for her and Ben to pour over the local maps in Weaver's tent and find the perfect location. After gleefully circling the building with that big, red marker, she and Ben had left with satisfied smirks on their faces. But then things got a little iffy. They needed to talk to Weaver, and in this mess it would be almost impossible to find him.

It was another half-hour before they found him. He was with Jamil, leaning over the engine of a car as the engineer demonstrated how the fiberglass shield would function.

"Captain!" Ben shouted as they jogged towards the pair.

Weaver turned around, a stern expression making his face look more grizzled than usual. "Look, Ben," he said with a wearied voice, "I'm sorry about your father and want to see him recover as much as anybody else, maybe even more, but I've got other things to worry about at the moment."

"That's just it," Ben said with a hint of eagerness in his voice. "Evey had an idea for something that might help."

"She seems to have a lot of those," Jamil muttered, his head still stuck somewhere in the engine, situating the fiberglass appropriately.

It was probably an innocuous statement, but Evelyn already felt like she had an unnecessary amount of comments to make on the state of the 2nd Mass, especially seeing as she was some sort of alien pet project that had been released into the wild. Evelyn immediately felt a bit self-conscious and folded her arms around her waste. "I'm a nerd. I watched a bunch of science fiction shows and some of them had relevant commentary. So sue me."

"I don't have time for you're insecurities, Walsh," Weaver responded gruffly, "just tell me the damned idea."

Evelyn flushed a bit at the accusation and nodded quickly. "Okay, sorry. It's just that—you said the beamers had been recalibrated for the IR spectrum, right?"

Jamil turned from his work and straightened. "That's the general idea, yeah."

Evelyn bit her lip and continued nodding. "Okay then. I say we give them something to shoot at."

Weaver shifted on his feet and stared down at her with a slightly hostile expression. "Excuse me?" he asked in a harsh tone.

"Right," Evelyn said quickly, "I should probably elaborate on that. She reached for the hood of the car Jamil was working on and slammed it closed, ignoring the protests of the two men behind her. She held her hand out to Ben who quickly handed her the map, which she then spread across the smooth surface. "All evidence points at the fact that the mechs are coming from the East, right? And we're heading South." She pointed at the giant red circle she had drawn. "There's a parking structure Northwest of us. The heat signatures to our vehicles are going to be dampened. Now this parking structure has plenty of cars. We set a few fires in conjunction with the metal frames of the cars, it could provide a viable—"

"Diversion." Weaver had finished her sentence for her. He turned to her and Ben, nodding. "That might buy us some extra time. What do you think, Jamil?"

Jamile rubbed at the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with being the decider in the situation. "I don't know. I mean, maybe. It depends on how their IR receptors work. With the cooling systems and everything, there would be a different heat signature, but from a distance it might confuse them—draw them away for a while, but I can't say anything for certain."

Weaver let out a long, slow breath and shifted on his feet. "What would you need?"

Evelyn pursed her lips in thought. "Not much. A can of gasoline. Maybe two if that's possible. And any extra firewood that may be lying around."

Weaver squeezed his eyes shut and ran his hands down his face. She couldn't blame him for his anxiety. Everything was coming to a head and there was still so much going on. And with Tom unconscious, it all fell on him. Heavy is the crown and all that. "Alright, it's worth a shot I guess. But we can only get you one canister of gasoline."

All the sudden a voice rang out above all the other noise of the camp. "Captain!" It was Hal's voice, and it was colored with anxiety. "Anthony, where's the Captain?" he asked through panting breaths.

"Over here!" she shouted back. "He's over here!"

Hal and Maggie barreled around a line of stationary cars. Hal skidded to a halt in front of them, grabbing hold of Evelyn's shoulder to steady himself. "Captain we got a mech convoy about a mile away. They're straight East," he said gesturing behind him. "They're coming right this way."

Even in the dim light Weaver's jaw was visibly tensing and un-tensing. "We move that med bus now Tom's not going to make it. Convoy goes, medical stays with Dr. Glass until she can stabilize Tom. I need four volunteers to stay with the bus in case the skitter show."

Before Weaver was even done speaking, Hal was gesturing to himself. "You know I'm in," he said quickly.

"Sounds good," Maggie said breathlessly.

"I'm three," Ben said from somewhere behind her.

"Four." Evelyn replied shortly.

Hal's head jerked around to stare at her. "Evey, are you insane—"

But Weaver cut him off. "Gather all the ammo you can carry. Hal, get the map from Dai. We'll wait for you twenty miles out. Walsh, how long would it take you to get that diversion set up."

"The parking structure is about two miles northwest, so it's not too far off. With a motorbike, I'll be there and back inside a half an hour."

Weaver nodded, still nervously scratching at his chin. "Okay, okay, Anthony will get Ben set up with the supplies necessary. You know where to go, son?"

"Yes, sir," Ben said with a curt nod.

"Okay then," Weaver said nodding slowly. "Head out and rejoin with the others at the med bus once you're done."

Ben and Anthony immediately ran off and disappeared into the droves of people. Evelyn felt her spine straighten as she turned to Weaver. "Captain—"

"Look, Walsh," Weaver replied shortly, "I know you like to think you're invincible or some shit like that, but you were shot less than two days ago, and I am not sending you on a motorbike down a road filled with hazardous debris. There isn't enough time for your ego." Weaver spun around, grabbing a rifle from the bed of a nearby truck and forcing it into her hands. "Watch Tom. Stay safe." He spun and shouted at the top of his lungs, "We're moving out, people! Five minutes!"

Weaver walked away, leaving her, Maggie, and Hal standing there. Evelyn quickly glanced between the two of them. They were both staring at her. Hal looked pissed and Maggie looked concerned. Hal opened his mouth to talk, but before he could talk Evelyn slung the rifle over her shoulder. "We should get back to Tom," she muttered before doing a quick about face and striding off towards the med bus.

It was a matter of seconds before Hal caught up with her, grabbing her shoulder and spinning her around. "Evey, what the hell are you thinking?" he growled almost angrily.

"I'm thinking that I'm going to make sure that Tom gets back safe," she bit back, confused by the bitterness in his tone. "Isn't that what we're all thinking?"

Hal shook his head and gave her a cold stare. "This is a new level of crazy, Evey. Even for you. You just got away from them and you're already throwing yourself in the line of fire? I swear to God you can be an idiot sometimes."

Evelyn blinked, shocked at the sudden hostility that suddenly seemed to be emanating from Hal in waves. Maggie came jogging up after them and quickly insinuated herself between the two of them. Evelyn could imagine that from an outside perspective I must look either like they were about to start hitting each other. "Are you sure this is a good idea, chickadee?" she asked in a carefully moderated tone. "You just got shot. Are you sure you're up for this?"

"I am _fine_," she said with frustration edging into her voice. "Bullet was a through-and-through. Dr. Glass gave me the okay. I'm right as rain. Peaches and cream." Evelyn spun around and continued walking. She could hear Hal following her, but when she glanced over her shoulder she saw that Maggie was hanging back.

"You don't have to worry about me, Hal," she shot over her shoulder.

He picked up his pace to put him in line with her. "Of course, I'm going to worry about you," he said angrily, "especially when you clearly haven't given up on your death wish."

Evelyn stopped short as a wave of cold anger shot through her body. She gave Hal a hard shove, causing him to stumble back a few feet. "I don't need you to worry about me!" The words erupted out of her mouth in a loud shout. Hal's eyes widened a bit at her sudden outburst. Evelyn shifted on her feet and lowered her voice, but never stopped glowering at Hal. "I don't need _anybody_ to worry about me. I'm not some freaking porcelain doll that's going to shatter if you drop it. I can take care of myself, Hal. That's what I've been doing for the past few months. Hell, that's what I've been doing for years. It's been just me and Tom for a long time now. We went to hell and back together, and if you think I'm going to be leaving him behind now…..then you don't know me nearly as much as either of us thought you did." Evelyn took a deep breath to recover from her outburst and leveled Hal with an angry glare. "I know what I'm doing, and I trust myself. At the very least you could do the same instead of watching me like some glorified babysitter. So when you're ready to deal with that, you just let me know."

Evelyn stalked off in the direction of the med bus, leaving Hal behind her, gaping like a fish. She folded her arms around her waist and trudged towards the bridge where the med bus was stationed, watching her shadow move and morph as car after car drove by her, off into the distance. After she finally reached the bus, she glanced in the windows. The curtains had been drawn shut, but she could see the silhouettes of Lourdes and Anne leaning over Tom's body. Her jaw twitched with anxiety as she leaned against the graffitied concrete at the base of the bridge. They weren't out of the woods yet.

A few moments later Hal and Maggie appeared. Hal shot her an awkward glance before climbing into the med bus with Anne and Lourdes. Maggie on the other hand turned and headed straight for her, leaning against the wall as well. "He blamed himself, you know. For you being taken," Maggie muttered in that low, raspy voice.

"It wasn't his fault," Evelyn murmured. "He couldn't have stopped me."

"Yeah, I know that you're a stubborn sonofabitch with absolutely no regard for her own safety and so does he, but that doesn't mean he didn't take the blame." She turned towards Evelyn with a serious expression on her face. "You should really cut him some slack. He can be a serious ass, about it, but it's because he cares. None of us want to see you disappearing again."

Evelyn blinked at the girl standing next to her. Maggie was a lot of things, but empathetic had never really been one of them. "Holy hell, Mags. You've gone native. Is there some sort of mythical sharing stick circulating around the 2nd Mass? I was not prepared for this sort of emotional catharsis."

Maggie ran a hand through her long blonde locks and sighed. "Shut it, chickadee. It was some idiot's dying wish that I integrate and become a functional member of the 2nd Mass. I just decided to listen to her for once." A small smile appeared on Evelyn's face causing Maggie to roll her eyes. "Quit looking at me like that, chickadee. The other 90% of the time I'm not listening to a word you say. Most of it's not worth hearing anyway."

"Love you, too, Mags."

Maggie gave a half-smile. It looked vaguely sinister the way the light was glinting off her teeth. "Look, all I'm saying is that you can't tell people not to worry about you. You're fine and you want to take part, I get it, but I'm sure as hell not going to stop asking if you're fine. And he's never going to stop being a pain in your ass when the topic of your safety comes up."

Evelyn stared down at the ground and began pushing the gravel around with the toe of her boot. Her little outburst earlier hadn't been fair, she knew that. But lately she had this overwhelming need to participate, to help. It wasn't all that different from Ben now that she thought about it, but instead of focusing on killing skitters, she was focusing on making sure that people were alright, that they were safe. As long as she was thwarting their efforts, that meant the skitters weren't in control of her brain. Or at least she hoped that was the case. Anyway, in spite of all of that she couldn't abandon Tom. She just couldn't. Each of them had been all the other had, and she wasn't blowing off that kind of trust just because they had gotten back to the 2nd Mass. In some way he was still her responsibility. She could rest when he was safe and with his family. And no matter how much ass-hat Hal growled—however well-intentioned the growling was—there was no way she would have skipped out. When she finally finished with her internal monologue, Evelyn noticed that Maggie was still staring at her. "What is it?"

"You're pulling away from people," she said shortly.

"I always pull away from people," Evelyn replied. "It's one of my basic character traits."

"No. No, this time it's different." Evelyn opened her mouth to respond but Maggie cut her off. "Don't bullshit me, chickadee. We've been with each other through the worst of it. Like it or not, I know you, and since you've gotten back you sometimes get this look on your face. It's the same look you said I had after the last surgery. It's like you're thinking about running away, just picking up your bags and fucking off to anywhere other than here."

A shiver coursed through her body. Why did Maggie have to be so damned perceptive sometimes? "I don't want to leave," she whispered.

Maggie folded her arms across her chest and gave a glare that bordered on accusatory. "Then that means that you feel like you have to leave." Evelyn knew her face must look guilty because Maggie let out a sardonic snort. "Look," she said turning away from Evelyn, "tell me or don't tell me, that's your prerogative. But if you are ready to talk about it and explain what the hell is going on with you….well, you know where to find me."

They fell into silence and stayed that way for a long time. The silence was getting really loud. It was like she was aggressively hearing nothing. The worst part of fighting was the waiting. You had to stay 'on' the whole time because the second you let your mind wander something could take you unprepared. After what felt like weeks Evelyn heard the soft puttering of a motorbike. A few moments later, she saw a stream of light as Ben pulled up next to the bus, hopping off of it and letting it crash to the ground. Evelyn took a few steps toward him, but before she said anything he just said, "It's done," and pulled his rifle into his arms. It was barely five minutes after that that she head the clanking metallic noise of mech feet hitting the ground. Maggie seemed totally unaware, but when Evelyn looked at Ben he nodded slightly, indicating that he could hear. After a few more moments, the lights of the bus cut out and Hal climbed out of the bus and ran towards them, staying low to the ground.

"Alright, guys," he said approaching them, "we're just going to lay low and hope the mechs pass us by." He glanced at Evelyn. She pressed her lips together in a thin line and reached back to pull the rifle sung across her back into her arms. She felt her lips quirk up into an awkward, but hopefully reassuring smile as she gave Hal a small nod of encouragement, letting him know that everything would be alright. He flashed a hesitant grin and then turned away. "Hey," he looked poignantly at Ben, "don't shoot one unless I give the order okay."

Hal ran back to the bus as the rest of them pressed themselves against the concrete. Evelyn made herself as small as possible, crouching down and inching towards the edge of the wall so she could surreptitiously peek around the corner at the mechs passing by. Whir, clank. Whir, clank. She saw moonlight glinting off metal and immediately threw herself back behind the wall of concrete, eyes squeezed shut and praying that nothing has seen her. Whir, clank. Whir, clank. The mechs seemed to be keeping course.

But then she heard another sound as well. It sounded as if someone was struggling against restraints, and it was coming from the bus. Shit. Tom had picked the worst possible moment to go delirious. She could feel her pulse racing. Her carotid artery was literally throbbing as the blood pumped through it. So she resorted to an old trick to artificially bring down her heart rate. The one she had developed during chemo to keep herself from puking. Take a deep breath, gulping down air, and then exhale very, very slowly while counting to thirty. She felt her heartbeat slow down, so she brought her gun into firing position, cradling the butt into her shoulder and her finger near the trigger. Every inch of her was praying that she wouldn't have to fire it, that the mechs would just pass by.

Whir, clank. Whir, clank. The sounds repeated over and over again. But then they began to get quieter and farther away. A few more moments and the wretched machines had disappeared into the black. Evelyn slowly stood up, glancing over her shoulder to see Ben and Maggie doing the same. Hal swiftly descended the stairs and the four of them congregated at the front of the bus. Maggie was still looking around suspiciously, but the mechs were long gone. A wide grin split across Evelyn's face, and Hal's responded in kind. He erupted into a relieved sort of laughter.

"I think that was our lucky day, right?" he said through a smile.

"They're heading northwest," Ben stated, staring out into the distance. "I think the diversion might have actually worked."

"Well," Evelyn said through a relieved smile, "at least that hare-brained idea was vindicated."

Hal put a hand on Evelyn's shoulder, causing her to spin around quickly. "Come on," he said quietly, looking between her and others, "let's go."

Evelyn was the first onto the bus, and she quickly made her way to the back where she saw Anne stitching together the wound in Tom's gut. "How is he?" she asked anxiously.

Anne straightened up, and wiped at the sweaty hair that was sticking to her forehead. When she turned around there was a smile on her face. "I got the last bullet fragment. He's going to be okay." She sighed and closed her eyes in relief. "He's going to be okay."

Evelyn released the breath she didn't know she was holding. She took a few steps back and collapsed onto the bench behind her, closing her eyes. Shortly afterwards she hear a rumbling noise as the engines roared to life and the bus lurched forward. They were going home. Or at least to the closest thing to home any of them had left. She felt the cushions next to her sink a bit and turned to see Hal sitting next to her. He was staring in front of him. It was in the direction of Tom, but his eyes were glazed over like they weren't looking at anything at all. She nudged him with her elbow, snapping him back to reality. "Your dad's going to be okay, Hal," she said in a comforting tone. "You get to breath now."

"Yeah," he said, studying his hands and picking at his nails nervously.

Evelyn covered his large hands with one off her smaller ones, making him stop picking. "Hal," she said quietly, "something good just happened. It's not all on you. Share the load a bit, why don't you."

Suddenly he pulled her into a tight hug, one arm wrapping around the back of her neck and the other snaking around her waist. Evelyn's arms made their way around his neck as well. They sat there for a while, perfectly still and fixed in that hug. She could feel his body sag a bit, and she had to hold him up. He had been trying to do Tom's job for so long now, to be a father to kids just a few years younger than he was. It had taken a toll.

"I'm not going to apologize first," Hal muttered into her ear.

Evelyn smiled into his shoulder. "Neither will I." She pulled back a little, bring her hands to the sides of his face and looking him in the eye. "We were both being jackasses. I say we just forget it."

He nodded slowly. The exhaustion in his eyes was so obvious now. He had probably kept his happy-face on since Tom left. She pulled him into another hug and he buried his face in her hair.

"Dude, did you just sniff my hair?" she mumbled. "That's a seriously creepy move. Plus it probably smells terrible at this point."

Hal's body started shaking and when he pulled away she could see that he was trying to stifle peals of laughter that ultimately sent him into a coughing fit. "Ugh, I missed you," he said wiping at his eyes.

Evelyn shifted so that she was leaning against Hal's shoulder. "Tom's back now," she whispered quietly. "You're going to be okay." When he didn't respond, she looked up at him. His eyes were closed and he was fast asleep. Evelyn smiled and closed her eyes. The bumping of the car along the road had a strange, soothing cadence to it. Before she knew it, she was asleep too.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Sunlight streamed through the windows of the med bus, the splotches of mud on the window casting a mosaic of shadow onto the floor. Evelyn blinked her eyes slowly, trying to eliminate the sleep from her eyes. She brought her hand up to her eyes to rub away the crusty material that had formed at their corners. She felt an odd sort of pressure on her waist. When she looked sown she saw that it was an arm, Hal's arm. He was still fast asleep, fast asleep, leaning back against the window and snoring slightly. Matt was curled up next to him. It was a bizarre little scene of domesticity.

Evelyn tried to pull away, but Hal's arm tightened its hold like he was a small kid holding on to his teddy bear after a nightmare. Evelyn stayed put, not wanting to wake him. He had looked so very tired last night. He needed the rest. So she lied back down and rested her head on his shoulder. She enjoyed the proximity more than she probably should have, considering the state of affairs. She was a hot mess and was apt to burn anybody who came within a ten-foot radius. But in that moment she couldn't help but lean in and close her eyes.

After lying there for a period of time she couldn't really register she heard hushed whispers coming from the other side of the bus. This time she opened her eyes in earnest. Ben and Anne were sitting next to a conscious, _talking_ Tom Mason. She saw Tom reach up and pull Ben down by his neck into some sort of awkward, convoluted hug. Evelyn gave them a few moments alone, watching them from her position like a creepy, creepy stalker person. Ben needed this, time alone with his dad to set things right. It's funny how things end up working out. How, no matter how large the transgression, people can just knit themselves back together again. Maybe that was what being in a family—a real, proper family—was like.

Eventually Evelyn knew that she would have to wake Hal up. She reached up and lightly shook his shoulder. "Hal," she whispered in his ear, "Hal, it's time to get up now."

Hal shifted in his seat, but didn't open his eyes. "Mmph," he groaned, his voice raspy with sleep, "I'm not ready to go to school. Five more minutes, mom."

Evelyn punched him in the shoulder causing him to jolt into consciousness, twitching like an idiot. "You don't need any more beauty sleep," she muttered quietly, trying not to interrupt Tom and Ben, "you're plenty pretty enough already." A silly smile spread across Hal's face and he opened his mouth to make some smartass remark, but she cut him off. "Your dad's awake."

Hal blinked in surprise and turned his head towards the back end of the bus. He let out a small relieved laugh. Matt jumped off his seat like it was on fire and sprinted towards Tom, his curly hair bouncing every which-way. Hal stood up slowly and took hesitant steps towards his father, like he was trying to make sure he was actually real. When he finally spoke, his voice was the same cavalier tone it usually had, but Evelyn could hear the relief in the undertones. "Look what the cat dragged in," he said approaching the bed and grasping his father's hand. "I missed you old man."

Evelyn stood up and leaned against the side of the van, watching the spectacle unfolding before her. The Mason family back together again. It was a thing of beauty. Though Anne's back was turned to her, Evelyn could see her hand moving up to her face, presumably to wipe tears away, and she knew the good doctor was thinking the exact same thing. Happy crying. In Evelyn's opinion it was one of the wonders of humanity. It seemed a given that grief and sadness would bring tears, but crying when you're happy…..to be so happy that your body, your physiology reacts to that emotion. It was a different thing entirely.

Tom pushed himself on his elbows, wincing from the pain. "You there, Evey?" he inquired in a voice rough from dehydration.

Lifting up her arm, Evelyn gave an awkward half-wave. "Right here, Tom," she said, taking a single step closer to the bed. "You're a little late to the game, old timer."

Tom let out a wheezing laugh. "At least I made it back before the ninth inning."

Hal was glancing between the two of them like they were crazy. "Baseball metaphors? Really? What the hell happened to you two—Evey you don't even like baseball."

Anne suddenly stepped forward, wiping the rest of the tears away. "Tom, I think there are some other people who want to see you. If you're up for it."

"Okay then," he said, nodding in assent. "Hal, you want to help your old man up."

It took some maneuvering, but soon enough Tom was standing and shuffling to the front of the bus with some help from his sons. When Evelyn pulled back the curtain dividing that bus from the outside world, she was mildly shocked by what she saw. There were teams of people milling about, waiting for something. Waiting for Tom.

Weaver was the first one to step forward. Then Dai. Then Anthony. One by one they all made their way towards that bus to shake his hand. The whole spectacle made Evelyn feel like Tom was one of those revolutionary heroes he kept rambling. And hell, in this world he was probably the closest thing you could get.

Evelyn made her way towards Hal who was standing behind his father as well-wishers arrived in droves. Evelyn smirked to herself. They seemed a lot more enthusiastic now than they did when they welcomed her back into the fold. One of the many perks of being Professor Kickass. That and making out with the hot doctor-lady.

"I think you're dad's famous now," she muttered into his ear.

"Yeah," he said with a light laugh. "I'll try and make sure it doesn't go to his head."

They smiled at each other for a moment. Evelyn glanced down and caught sight of his hand. He was running his thumb over the tips of his fingers over and over again. Evelyn reached down and took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers and giving it a squeeze of reassurance. Hal swayed a bit and nudged her shoulder with his. "Thanks for bringing him back."

"We brought each other back," she replied. "I'm not sure either of us would have managed to make it on our own. I would probably be living in a mall like a hobo by now if Tom wasn't there."

"Well I'm just glad you're here."

Evelyn bit her lip to try and ward off the smile that was threatening to form. Hal had this undeniable ability to make her giggle like she was possessed by a schoolgirl who scribbled Mrs. So-and-So in her binder surrounded by those horrible hearts. Ugh. That was a ridiculously specific and undignified metaphor, but she still wanted to smile.

As she scanned the crowd, Evelyn caught sight of something that wiped the smile from her face entirely. Pope was leaning against the door of that crappy GTO talking to Weaver. And where Pope went, trouble followed. The greasemonkey turned to the stage and for a moment—just a moment—they made eye contact. That millisecond of interaction caused Evelyn to intake a sharp breath. She recognized the look in Pope's eyes. It was an expression she had seen on his face many times before. It was the way he looked at skitters. And what's worse, she couldn't tell him he was wrong because she wasn't certain of it herself.

And that's when a thought occurred to her. It was a sad one. That maybe they would never be out of the woods, because the woods was all there was left.

**So that's the end of...episode 1? What?! At this rate the story will be like 70 chapters and over 400,000 words. I'm exhausted just thinking about it. Hopefully you guys won't end up getting tired of reading it.  
**

**Special thanks to Niamh O'Mahony, LucyRider17, lenie954, Night-Weaver369, and Katie for reviewing.**

**Niamh: I'm so glad that you like the story and I hope my characters continue to live up to your standards. I hope that Evey is realistic enough. Sometimes I feel like she gets mad and forgives quickly in this weird sort of cycle, but I hope I explained that type of behavior decently. Anywho, thank you so much.**

**Night-Weaver369: I hope "Mother FFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUU" is a good thing.**

**lenie954: Thanks for favoriting the story!**

**Katie: Flattery will get you everywhere.**

**Please review! It gives me enthusiasm for the project when I know that people are reading and enjoying the story. I would really like to know what you think. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I really want to make this as good of a story as possible, and I think input would be helpful.  
**

**Reviews kill skitters! So review, pretty please.**


	9. Scars

**Greetings! Sorry it took so long for me to update this time, but I was sick with either some sort of super-flu or walking pneumonia, followed up with a bit of a family crisis.**

**Disclaimer: Like you guys really need me to say it...I do not own Falling Skies. SPIELBERG *shakes fist* Any dialogue you recognize was taken from the show (and I hope that I'm not being too unoriginal with my storytelling, but I'm going to have it follow Season 2)**

**Photos of my OCs are on my profile (Just copy/paste the URLs and delete the spaces)**

**I have also developed a soundtrack. It's on my profile as a different story. Chapter 1 is TSKoB and chapter 2 is ADToW.**

Chapter 8 – Scars

_Everything was white and faded out, except for the gleaming metal fixtures and tools. Evelyn blinked and tried to push herself up in her elbows, but something stopped her. There were restraints on her wrists and ankles, the thick leather buckle kind with soft padding on the inside so your skin wouldn't get scraped raw. Like the ones from the psych wards in the movies._

"_What the hell—"_

_Craning her neck as high as she could she looked around, Evelyn took in her surroundings. There was a white corkboard ceiling, a tiny window high up on the wall, and a faded green blanket covering up an ugly plastic chair. Her stomach clenched. It was that first hospital room, the one she stayed in when she first found out about the tumors._

_Before her mind could process what was happening, the door in front of her banged open revealing Pope. He was still as greasy as ever, but that ratty leather jacket and necklace of skitter claws were covered by a pristine white lab coat._

"_Pope," she said with trepidation._

"_The 'Great Mother' returns," he said in his usual contemptuous drawl. He clicked his pen and began scribbling gown on the chart he was carrying. "Seems you've put us in quite the predicament, Red."_

"_What do you mean?" she asked, pulling at the restraints that encircled her wrists. "What is this about? What's going on?"_

"_Ah." Pope sighed and dropped the pen and chart on a nearby table which was covered in a cheap faux-wood laminate. "It seems that you have become a danger to yourself and to others," he said with a cruel smirk. "Can't have that, now can we? We've got to cut the crazy out of your head." He pulled out that massive knife he had on him at all times and tapped the flat of the blade against his skull_

_Evelyn heard that familiar clicking noise again, the one that always seems to appear when you're too close. When she looked back at her hands and feet, it wasn't those thick leather straps anymore. It was rough, green, scaly hands. She tried to scream, but no sound came out. It died in her throat. And when she turned back to face the figure in front of her, it wasn't Pope anymore, it was Clayton, still holding that rust- and blood-covered knife. _

"_Funny how things seem to work out," he said, approaching the head of the bed. "You thought you would be the end of me, but here I am. Even got front row tickets for your little breakdown." Clayton leaned over her, placing a hand over her mouth and pressing the blade of the knife against her throat. His breath stank of coffee, bourbon, and blood. He leaned in further so his mouth was inches from her ear. He spoke in a whisper, but the words echoed in her mind._

"_Now don't you wish I had just fed you to them to begin with?"_

_It was her mother's voice that he spoke with. And she could hear the smile._

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Evelyn woke with a start. She sat bolt upright in bed, her pulse racing and her breath coming out in heavy gasps. Her hands immediately searched around her. No skitter hands holding her down, no crisp hospital sheets, just that same old moth-eaten blanket that smelled faintly of mildew and engine oil. Evelyn took a deep breath and felt her heart rate begin to decrease. It hadn't been real. Breathe. Just breathe.

It had been three days since they had pulled up stakes and fled the parade of mechs. Three days since Tom woke up. Things had been fairly quiet. There hadn't been any attacks or anything since that night, but Evelyn couldn't help but feel like something big was coming, some big throw down brewing just past the horizon. She had seen the maps. She knew what was happening. They were being boxed in by a wall of mechs, and she was starting to feel the claustrophobia constricting her throat once again.

Evelyn flopped back down onto the cot that had been laid out, causing little particles of dust to fly in the air and appear as specs in the rays of sunlight peeking into the tent. It must have been early in the morning, because she couldn't hear the usual sounds of chatter emanating from outside. Hell, she could hear…birds? Evelyn couldn't even remember the last time she heard birds. But then the birds seemed to move closer and closer and then far away again. Her heart dropped a bit when she realized that it wasn't birds, it was someone in the distance, whistling.

"Bad dream?" a raspy voice asked.

Evelyn rolled over to face the voice, taking the blankets with her and cracking an eye open. Maggie was sitting on the cot next to her, yanking on her boots and lacing them tightly. "What makes you say that?" she mumbled, pulling herself into the sitting position.

Maggie shifted so that she was facing Evelyn. Her elbows were positioned on her knees and she was staring with a penetrating look on her face. "Could be the fact that you were thrashing around all night. Or that you're covered in sweat and smell like a sewer."

Maggie was right. Her hands were slick, her clothes were moist, and her hair was a tangled mess. Evelyn ran her hands through it, trying to work out the knots that had formed. What she would give for a shower and a big bottle of conditioner. After a few moments she had managed to work her way through most of them and glanced up, finding that Maggie was still staring. Evelyn furrowed her eyebrows, silently asking what was wrong.

"You going to tell me what that dream was about?" Maggie asked with raised, expectant eyebrows. "It must have been big, because if I recall you're not one to scare easy."

"I don't remember," Evelyn said shortly, untangling her legs from the blankets constricting them and throwing the mildewy fabric aside.

Maggie shook her head. "You always remember your dreams. You used to tell me all about them. Every morning it was lime jello and your crazy-ass dreams."

Evelyn gritted her teeth and stared at the dirt floor. "It dreamt I was a cast member of 'The Real World' and had to room with an emotionally constipated blonde who asks too many questions."

Maggie held her hands up in submission. "Hey, you don't have to talk to me if you don't want to. You're usually the one who's the 'sharer'—I was just playing in your sandbox."

Evelyn brought her hand up and rubbed at her forehead. "I'm sorry, Mags. I just—I don't want to go there right now. Lately my dreams have been a grab-bag of terrible memories thrown together to form a giant ice cream sundae of suck. I don't want to think about it any more than I have to."

Maggie nodded silently. "I get it," she said pushing herself to her feet. "Hell, if anybody gets it, I do." Maggie grabbed her jacket, pulled it on, and headed for the door. When she reached the tent flap she paused for a moment and looked back at Evelyn with a small smile. "Patrol leaves in thirty minutes. I'll get your gear ready to go and you get yourself cleaned up. I don't want to have to smell you all the way there."

Evelyn smiled back. "Thanks, Mags. You're sensitivity never ceases to impress. I'll be sure to take a hobo shower so your nose will make it through this next test of fortitude."

After Maggie walked out one side of the tent, Evelyn walked out the other one—the one that faced the fast-moving creek. A few moments later she returned to the tent with a bucket full of water and a cloth. Evelyn stripped off the tank-top that covered her torso, leaving her in her sports bra. Cupping her hands, she dipped them into the water, dumpling it over her head and letting it drench her hair, crisp, cool water replacing the sticky sweat that was knotting it. Evelyn leaned over the bucket, bracing her hands on the table, and looked into the water, waiting for the ripples to calm down into a calm smooth surface. When it finally did, she wasn't sure she recognized the face that stared back. She hadn't really looked at herself all that time she was alone with Tom. It didn't make much sense to do so, there was no point in it. It was just her and Tom, so there was nobody to keep up appearances for. But now, looking at her reflection, she saw just how weak and sickly she looked. With the 'new additions' she was stronger than ever, but just staring at herself she felt like she was looking at one of those models you really want to force-feed a sandwich. Her muscles were still there, but time and effort had shaved away anything that served as a barrier between her and her skin. Her cheeks were hollow, her cheek bones sharp. Her time on the road had left her oddly angular, like some sort of abstract and vaguely sinister sculpture. "I look like the Crypt Keeper," she whispered to herself.

Tearing her eyes away from the reflection, Evelyn glanced down at the bandage that covered her abdomen. It had started out clean and white, but over night it had turned yellow and dirtied from the sweat. It had been three days since the midnight train out of skitter central and she was healing quickly. She slowly peeled it back and looked underneath Evelyn turned and rummaged about in the duffle at the foot of her cot, digging out the 'first aid kit' Anne had given her. She popped open the tupperware and pulled out what she needed: tweezers, a set of nail scissors, and two hotel shampoo bottles filled with vodka. Using the vodka, she cleaned off the scissors, tweezers, and the flesh around the stitches that her healing process had rendered obsolete. One by one, she cut the sutures and pulled out that plasticky thread with the tweezers. Evelyn's face scrunched up in discomfort and she sucked in a breath through her teeth. It wasn't pain, her threshold for that kind of thing had climbed astronomically, but the pulling sensation as the thread slid out of her skin was off-putting. She was on the last suture in her abdomen when she heard the rustling sound of the tent flap opening.

"Hey, Evey, I—"

She looked over her shoulder to see Hal was standing there holding two plates with his mouth slightly open. "Sorry," he said with an awkward laugh. "Sorry, I should have knocked."

Evelyn glanced down, remembering her appearance, and let out a soft snort of laughter. "Hal, I think you're blushing. You look like a thirteen-year-old girl who just met Justin Bieber."

Hal let out a bark of laughter and rolled his eyes. "Don't flatter yourself. I brought chow," he said holding up the plates.

"Eggs benedict?"

"Nope," he replied popping the 'p', "more like grey goop formula forty-eight."

"Sounds delicious," she said sardonically, turning away from him to pull out the last suture. "Never go into marketing, Hal. You kind of suck at it."

Hal took a few steps forward and put the plates down on the foot of the bed. "What are you doing?" he asked from somewhere behind her.

"Taking out my stitches," she replied through gritted teeth.

"Should you really be doing that? Shouldn't Anne or Lourdes be removing those?"

She shook her head, causing her wet hair to fly about and stick to her shoulders. "They have enough work on their hands." She twisted around and poured the vodka over the stitches that held together the exit wound. She bit her lip and tried to carefully snip them away, but it was at a weird angle.

"I got it," Hal said, striding up and taking the scissors from her.

She thanked him in a quiet voice and turned away. His hands were cold and made her shiver inwardly. Or at least that's what she told herself. She rolled her eyes at her own idiocy. "Get a grip, Walsh," she muttered under her breath. She refused to be one of those giggly, squealing girls who freaked out whenever the boy she liked was nearby. After he was done pulling out the last thread, he ran his thumb over the ridges it had left behind. "That's probably going to scar," he murmured.

"I don't mind scars all that much," Evelyn said quickly, grabbing the supplies and forcing them back into the first aid kit. "They're like tattoos that come with experience. You earn them, you know?"

"I guess that's one way to look at it."

Evelyn shrugged. "It's better than being bitter about it. There's enough to be bitter about already." She turned to fully face Hal for the first time. For some reason there was a troubled expression where that devil-may-care one should be. "Hal?" she asked tentatively.

"What's that?" he asked almost angrily, pointing at her stomach.

Her eyes followed the direction of his finger and she looked down to see what exactly it was that he was looking at. Across her flat stomach there was a spot where the pale, white skin turned an angry red color and had the glassy shine typical of burn scars. It looked like a sunburst, with a circle in the center and tendrils moving outward from that point. "It's just an electrical burn," she said, pulling her tank top over her head to hide it. "Those wizard staffs packed a bit of a punch." She looked at him and could see the twitching of his jaw.

"It's okay, Hal. Really, it's fine." Evelyn pulled her wet hair back into a messy bun and dropped to her cot. She began shoveling food into her mouth at a rate that could only be described as alarming while Hal stood there with his arms folded across his chest. "Are 'oo goin' ta eat anyfing?" she asked through a mouthful. The corner of his mouth twitched a bit and he moved to sit down next to her.

"You know," he said taking a big scoop of grey gloop formula forty-six, "for someone who spent most of her life as a trust-fund baby, your manners are atrocious."

She rolled her eyes and flicked some food at him. "I'm not exactly going to be eating tea and crumpets with the queen any time soon, am I? Who am I supposed to make the effort? You?"

He shrugged his shoulders and put on an expression of wide-eyed innocence. "It wouldn't be the first time a girl has tried to impress me." Evelyn gave him a withering look and flicked some more food at him, sending it right between his eyes where it connected with a loud splat.

"Hey!" Hal exclaimed, wiping it away while Evelyn tried to stifle the peals of laughter forcing their way out of her throat.

"Be impressed by my aim, Hal, not my eating habits."

Hal opened his mouth to respond but was cut off as Dai stuck his head into the tent. "Time to move out," he said shortly. Evelyn stood to get ready when Dai suddenly appeared again. "By the way, Hal," he added, gesturing to his face, "you've got a little something," making Evelyn erupt into a fit of laughter. Hal swore and threw her boots at her harder than he probably needed to.

Evelyn quickly pulled on and laced up her boots, still chuckling slightly. When she finished she sighed and looked up from her shoes, making eye contact with Hal. "Once more unto the breach?"

"It would seem so, Shakespeare," Hal replied, pushing himself to his feet and holding out a hand to help her up. Evelyn took it and hauled herself to her feet. The two of them marched towards the vehicles where Dai, Jamil, Ben, Jimmy, and Maggie were already standing.

Evelyn's face formed a grim smile. "Let's march without the noise of threat'ning drum."

Hal looked at her with a bemused expression. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Absolutely nothing, poindexter," she replied, striding past him. Maggie was there holding out her gun. Evelyn took it silently with a nod of thanks and made her way to her motorbike, smacking Ben on the back of the head as she walked. The truck and the motorbikes roared to life in some sort of sinister symphony and drove off, leaving the camp behind them.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Evelyn took a deep breath and glanced over her shoulder at the scene behind her. If circumstances were different it would have almost been picturesque, something that would look nice on an old-timey post card: a bridge crossing a tranquil river, surrounded on all sides be a beautiful, green forest. But here and now, that rickety old bridge was the lifeline of the 2nd Mass. And the image of Dai on the back of a truck manning a 50 caliber machine gun didn't fit to well into the mental image. She was bouncing nervously on her feet watching Jamil take careful, tentative steps, probing the wood with his foot to assess its condition.

"Would you stop with the fidgeting," Maggie growled from behind her. "You're going to give me a freaking ulcer. We're supposed to be keeping watch and you can't exactly shoot straight if you're acting all twitchy like that."

"Sorry," Evelyn muttered sheepishly. She planted her feet firmly on the ground, but began drumming her fingers along the barrel of the rifle she held in her arms and humming 'Hey Jude'. Maggie fixed her with another death glare and her fingers froze. "Sorry," she mumbled again.

"Bridge looks good!" Jamil shouted from his position over the river. "We may have a real shot at crossing here, guys!"

Evelyn closed her eyes and said a silent 'thank you' to the universe, but part of her wondered if this gift was a Trojan horse. They had been out on patrol for hours now trying to find a way to cross the river that was blocking their road to freedom. Each and every one of them had been destroyed, left in heaps of steel and concrete. But somehow this dinky little wooden bridge had survived? The situation left a bad taste in her mouth.

"That's good!" Hal shouted from his position a few yards in front of them. He turned around and walked back towards Evelyn and Maggie with a slight smile on his face. "The aliens have blown up every other bridge within a hundred miles of here. Got us pinned on this side of the river."

"I think we're all pretty familiar with the situation, Hal," Maggie said with a smirk, 'but thanks for the recap. We should get the intel back to command. The longer we stand around the closer the skitters get to turning the 2nd Mass into roadkill."

Evelyn raised her eyebrow. "Well, Mags, aren't you a bag full of rainbows and unicorns today."

"She's not wrong, though," Hal said, walking up between the two of them. "That line of mechs is closing in on us. This is a pretty time-sensitive deal." He looked down the bridge to the two smaller silhouettes. "Ben! Jimmy! Let's go!"

Evelyn bit her lip and furrowed her eyebrows, staring absently into space. Hal leaned down to put his face in her plane of vision. He waved his hand in her face. "Earth to Evey." Her eyes snapped back into focus and she looked up at him. He stared back expectantly. "That was your thinking face. What's going on?"

"I don't know," she mused, pressing her fist to her lips. "I just think we should step back and take a second."

"Time sensitive situation, remember," he said, waving his finger around. "This is the last bridge we got."

"Exactly."

It was time for Hal's eyebrows to furrow, but it was Dai who spoke. "What do you mean by that?" he asked, staring down at her from the truck with that creepy, intense gaze of his. To her it always seemed like he was trying to relay messages telepathically through his retinas or something.

Evelyn glanced between the three sets of eyes that were turned her way. "Well, I mean—why this bridge? If every other one is destroyed, why is this one standing?"

"You think it's a trap," Dai quipped. It was more of a statement than a question. Maybe he agreed with her.

She shook her head noncommittally. "Maybe. Maybe not. I just don't think we should be cavalier about it. We don't want to get caught off-guard by something."

"Something like what?" Hal asked.

"Like that," Maggie's voice spat bitterly.

Evelyn spun to look at her friend who was, in turn, staring at the sky. Evelyn followed her gaze until her eyes found its object. It was an airship

"Incoming!" Dai's voice echoed across the water.

Evelyn dropped and crouched down next to the truck, clutching her AK-47 close to her chest. The sounds of the 50-cal firing rattled her ears. Shell casings were bouncing off the truck and raining down on her head like hot lead. Hal collapsed down next to her with his back to the truck and his hands over his ears to keep out the noise. He nodded to indicate that he was okay. Evelyn eyes roved around wildly for a sign of Maggie, and eventually found her peeking around the rear bumper. "Ben! Jimmy!" she called out at the top of her lungs, though it was likely that neither of them could hear her over the gunfire. Well maybe Ben could. The kid had the ears of a bat.

Evelyn's eyes returned to the sky to follow the path of the airship. They weaved backwards and forwards in some sort of dance. It reminded her of those airshows her grandfather took her to when she was a kid. It was the same acrobatics, the same roaring noise following in its wake, but very different circumstances. It was here to kill her.

There was a loud crash as something collided with the ship and sent it spinning off course. Dai had made the shot. Evelyn breathed out a sigh of relief, but soon the smile on her face shifted to gaping shock as a piece of the ship broke off and collided with the bridge in a massive ball of fire.

The ship continued on its fatal trajectory, exploding somewhere in the distance, but Evelyn's eyes remained fixed on the fire. Loud heavy footsteps rang out as Ben and Jimmy careened towards the truck, colliding with it and causing a lout thump. Ben had a sloppy smile on his face. "Nice shot, Dai!"

"Twenty-mic mech armor piercing discarding Sabo. Accept no substitutes."

Evelyn twisted her head around to see Hal with that same stupid smile on his face while he congratulated Dai. Boys and their explosions. The stricken expression that colored Jamil's features was much more in line with her own emotional barometer. As was the quiet exclamation of 'oh shit' that managed to escape from Maggie's lips.

Without saying anything, Evelyn took off jogging down the bridge. For those last ten seconds or so she was able to delude herself into thinking that maybe—just maybe—the damage wasn't that bad and they could go back to the 2nd Mass with good news. Of course that was too much to ask for. She skidded to a halt at the ragged break.

Evelyn squatted low to the ground, trying to convince herself that maybe the extent of the damage was just a matter of perspective—that her eyes were fooling. Unfortunately the new perspective she was given proved to be even more damning. She touched her fingers to the mangled wood, hearing the small sizzle as the embers scorched her skin. When she pulled her hand back, she rubbed the soot between her thumb and forefingers, staring at it like she could find some answers in the damned wreckage.

Footsteps came up behind her and cast shadows across the small bit of wood in front of her. She squinted up at Hal and Maggie, shielding her eyes from the grayish sunlight of the overcast sky. Hal had a sort of slack-jawed look on his face while Maggie's was pinched and angry. "Well I guess we can't cross here," she said with more indignation than worry.

Evelyn sighed and stood up slowly, wiping her sooty hands on her pants. She readjusted the strap of her gun on her shoulder and walked slowly towards her friends, falling in line with them and turning back to survey the damage.

"Well," she said shoving her hands in her pockets, "it looks like we can never catch a fucking break."

**OK, guys. So like I said I won't hold my loyal readers hostage to reviews—and I won't—but I only got three for this past chapter and I was wondering if you were losing interest or if there was something you didn't like. I can't fix it unless you tell me what it is, so please sound off. I want to make this story as good as possible and I can't do that without you guys. (Also, they kill skitters).**

**Big thank you to Geekman-1, LucyRider17, and Night-Weaver369 for reviewing.**

**Till next time!**

**It Belongs In A Museum**


	10. Troubled Waters

**Disclaimer: Like you guys really need me to say it...I do not own Falling Skies. SPIELBERG *shakes fist* Any dialogue you recognize was taken from the show (and I hope that I'm not being too unoriginal with my storytelling, but I'm going to have it follow Season 2)**

**Photos of my OCs are on my profile (Just copy/paste the URLs and delete the spaces)**

**I have also developed a soundtrack. It's on my profile as a different story. Chapter 1 is TSKoB and chapter 2 is ADToW.**

Chapter 9 – Troubled Waters

When would life stop being a pain in the ass? This whole 'one step forward, two steps back' trend was really starting to become frustrating as hell. She makes it back to the 2nd Mass, she gets shot. They find a bridge, it blows up. Evelyn sat on the ragged edge of the broken bridge, gun in her arms, and feet dangling over the edge. It wasn't the most tactical position, but honestly if any skitters or mechs showed up, she would be dead before she knew any different. The rest of the patrol had gone back to camp, bringing Weaver the information. She had volunteered to be the one to keep watch, not that it would really make any difference over the edge.

Evelyn kicked her feet back and forth like a little kid. She leaned forward and spit over the edge, listening for when the saliva hit the slow-moving water below. It took about four seconds for it to make contact. Part of her wanted hop off the edge and crash into the water herself.

Sighing, Evelyn looked down at the river. She loved the water, always had. It was oddly comforting to her. Whenever her mother and father would fight—scream, shout, throw dishes—she would jump in the pool outside and do laps. The water would embrace her, and when she stepped out she was clean. Not clean in terms of hygiene, but in terms of piece of mind. Sometimes she would hold her breath and stay under the water for as long as possible. She would feel her hair floating around her face and the water moving between her fingers and toes and somehow all the conflict would diffuse out of her and into the water, like through osmosis. But she wasn't a little kid anymore, and the problems she had wouldn't go away if she ducked her head under the water's surface.

Evelyn whipped her head around to look back down the bridge towards the forest. She could hear the rumbling of engines somewhere in the distance, cars and motorbikes. Weaver's little caravan was on its way. Evelyn swung her feet back onto the solid portion of the bridge and stood up. She didn't want to get chastised for inattention or dereliction of duty. She waved once they made it into view, indicating the all-clear.

The GTO was the first to pull up and Weaver jumped out immediately, slamming the car door behind him, followed by Jamil, Anthony, and Tom. A few moments later Hal, Ben, and Dai pulled up in their motorbikes. Evelyn was ambling towards them slowly from her position on the bridge when she heard the sound of another bike approaching. All of the sudden Pope appeared, roughly shoving his way to the front of the group.

Evelyn swore under her breath. She had actively avoiding Pope over the past few days. The way he looked at her….it was like she was something for him to hunt, to gun down. When he caught sight of her, he threw his head back and groaned. "Aw, hell," he drawled out, "whose brilliant fucking idea was it to give Combat Barbie a gun?"

"You best watch yourself, Pope," Weaver's gruff voice called out. "It ain't the time for that. We got a job to do."

"Yes, sir," he spat out contemptuously with a sarcastic salute. He glared at Evelyn and rammed her shoulder as he swaggered by, causing her to stumble back a step.

"You okay?" Hal asked as he approached.

"Peachy," she replied dryly.

The whole group congregated at the gaping hole that had become the bane of their existence. Pope was crouching down at the edge, shaking his head. "You can't even walk across this thing," he said, spitting over the edge and laughing bitterly. "Dollars to donuts the beamers will bomb the hell out of your work crews ten minutes after they start to rebuild it."

"Well, I didn't say I had everything worked out," Jamil said quickly, "but this is our best chance."

Weaver paused for a moment, rubbing his eyes in frustration. "We may be better off probing for a weak point and then fighting our way out."

Pope stood up and turned back to the rest of the group. "Yeah, well, the mech and skitter columns I saw weren't carrying any weak points with them."

"And as we get pushed further and further in towards the river they forces will grow more concentrated," Evelyn added. "If it was difficult to punch through before, it's going to be impossible now."

Pope turned to her with raised eyebrows, to which she returned a withering glare. "Red here has a point," he said contemptuously, like he didn't want to admit that she was actually making positive contributions. "It'll be fucking impossible for us to break through that line."

Hal took a few steps towards Weaver. "So far we've managed to stay hidden, but they're looking hard and closing in fast. They'll be on us in two days tops."

Evelyn's rubbed at her forehead. Two days to repair the bridge? It would be difficult, but it was possible. That is if they started that very second. To her this seemed like a 'fire to the frying pan' scenario. She had escaped the skitters and found the 2nd Mass only to be taken by the skitters again. Evelyn appreciated irony, but for some reason she didn't like it so much this time.

"Why don't they just nuke the whole damn city and be done with us?" Anthony spat bitterly. Evelyn couldn't help but agree with him. They were such a technologically advanced race and were so close to finding them, she really didn't understand the hesitation. Not that she didn't appreciate it or anything, but it just didn't make sense.

"We might not be worth it," Hal said, interrupting her reverie.

"Well that's offensive," she muttered, earning a half-smile from him.

We haven't seen them drop neutron bombs in months," he continued. "Not since Boston."

They won't need a nuke if they trap us on this side of the river," Weaver said bitterly. "What about that boat you liberated from the sporting goods store, Jamil?"

Jamil gave a half-hearted shrug. It really didn't look like he was all that enthusiastic about that option. "It was rubber, seats five, no motor. Best guess it would take forty minutes round trip to cross the river."

"No," Tom said weakly, still pressing his hand on his abdomen, against the wound Evelyn knew was still plaguing hi. He shouldn't be here. He should be in bed resting, not exposed to enemy attack on a broken down bridge. But he was here and he had opinions, and they should all probably listen to him. "We can't rely exclusively on the boat," he continued. "That would take way to long to get everyone across, plus we'd have to leave the vehicles and all the heavy weapons. The wounded, supplies—Captain it seems our best and only option is to rebuild the bridge."

"We don't have to rebuild it," Jamil said in a low, almost comforting voice. "We could just patch it up. The supports look like hell, but I think they'll hold. We can build decking, bridge it over these gaps and drive across. It doesn't have to last forever, just one night."

"Hell," Evelyn said, taking a few steps toward Weaver, "it would probably be better if it didn't last. We don't want the mechs following us."

Weaver didn't look at her or Jamil. He just continued staring across the river. It was like if stared long enough, the future would play out before his eyes and he would know exactly what to do. Unfortunately, none of them were gifted with that sort of foresight. He took a deep breath and paused a moment. Evelyn did not envy him his position. "We have no choice," he said stoically. "Start building the decking, Jamil."

"What about the beamers," Anthony asked anxiously.

"It's too bad they figured out our jamming frequencies so quickly," Dai added.

"We could try setting up anther diversion," Evelyn interjected. "It worked well enough last time, but I'm not sure they'd fall for it again. But none of this matters if there's something on the other side of that river."

"She's right," Dai said in a frustrated voice. "We have no idea what's in that forest. It could be an ambush."

A sort of dead silence hung in the air. It was like everyone was thinking about the exact same thing, but nobody wanted to talk about it. And since nobody else would, she would have to. Evelyn gnawed on her fingernails for a moment before she responded. "There probably is something big over there, or at least I think there is," she said quietly.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Red?" Pope asked harshly.

Evelyn threw him an angry glare and continued. "Well, I mean every bridge other than this one has been destroyed, right?" Hal, Ben, and Dai made small noises of consent, so she nodded and continued. "I've been thinking about it since we found this place. At first I thought they were setting a trap, you know? Pushing us to a single location so they could take us all out in one fell swoop."

"That makes sense," Anthony replied, turning back to face her. "I mean it would be easier for them that way, to isolate us in a single location."

"Yeah, that's what I thought at first too," Evelyn continued, nodding and gesturing wildly to emphasize her point, "but that's just it isn't it? Why did they blow up the bridge when they did?" She knew that she must look crazy, glancing between all those men with wide, enthusiastic and/or deranged eyes.

"I think you're going to have to spell it out for us, Evey," Ben said in a firm voice.

"I swear, men can be so dense," she said rolling her eyes.

"Just spit it out!" Anthony yelled angrily.

"Okay, okay," Evelyn said, raising her hands in submission. "I just find it strange that they sent airships out to the bridge when they did. If it really was a trap, and if they were really trying to draw us in, why would they launch an attack on a few bikes on the bridge? What's the use in that? They didn't know that the ship would collide with the bridge. They didn't know it would be rendered non-functional."

"What are you saying, Evey?" Tom asked from his position at the railing.

Evelyn bit her lip and looked back at them all. "Have you every seen a mech ford through water? Have you ever seen a skitter swim? They're too dense for that—even the skitters can't defy the laws of physics. I don't think they were trying to thwart by attacking the patrol, I think they were trying to protect something. I think that bridge was still there because it was the last avenue to something important. Something that they need to be able to get to."

There was a short silence that followed that proclamation. "Well someone put their thinking pants on this morning," Pope growled.

"It doesn't change anything either way," Weaver sighed. "The fact remains that we need eyes on the other side of that river. Someone needs to cross the river for a looksy. Anybody up for a cold swim?"

"I'll do it," Hal said with a nod. "Evey and I will take the boat, we'll go across, we'll check it out."

"No," Evelyn said shaking her head. Hal turned to her with an expression of mild betrayal on his face. She shot him an apologetic look and turned back to Weaver. "There are too many variables with the boat. It's big, bulky, slow and overall way too visible. And what if a skitter finds it while you're out looking? I could swim the river and be back in no time. Faster and quieter."

Weaver looked at her skeptically and crossed his arms. "You sure you're up for it?"

"Wouldn't have volunteered if I wasn't," she replied, giving a firm nod. "I took the stitches out this morning. I'm all healed up and ready to go. And I'm a strong swimmer. I could cross that river in under ten minutes by my estimation."

"I'll go with her."

Out of the corner of her eye, Evelyn saw Tom's head snap around to look at Ben. His eyes showed a mixture of confusion, anger, worry. "Really," he said in a voice that sounded almost disappointed. "You're going to with her."

Evelyn glanced between the two Masons. The tension building up between them could be cut with a knife. Ben looked over at his father with a sad expression, like he was offended by his father's incredulity. "You've been away dad," he said steadily. "This is what I do."

"He's right, Tom," Weaver said, stepping forward. He looked distinctly uncomfortable. As he should. Between Tom Mason and his sons was a dangerous place to be. And he would have to tread carefully until her managed to crawl out of the line of fire. "Ben's the best….man for the job." He turned to face her and Ben. "You two take Jimmy with you to cover your route to the river bank. You go tonight."

"Yes, sir," the two of them murmured.

Weaver nodded absently, like he was still mulling over his options, even though there really weren't any. He scratched his head and turned back to them. "Alright, then. I think we've got just about everything covered. Let's pack it up and get back to camp."

Evelyn readjusted the gun strap on her shoulder and walked down the bridge back to her bike. The wood creaked and groaned beneath her feet. It was kind of funny if you thought about it. The lives of over a hundred people depended on those planks of wood, on that stupid, broken down bridge. She wondered if the designer had ever thought that it would one day his or her bridge would be that important, because right now it was a life line.

There was a sound of heavy boots hitting the ground somewhere behind. "I'd say you're being an idiot," Hal said falling in line with her, "but history suggests you'd get mad and start yelling."

"Your learning curve isn't all that steep," she replied with a small smile, "but it's nice to know you're getting it."

Hal let out a bark of laughter and scratched at the back of his head as they approached the bikes. "Yeah, well I couldn't look at that angry face of yours. You get all red and splotchy. It would be cute if it wasn't for the spitting. I always wound up feeling like I should be carrying an umbrella."

"Look at you with the jokes," she said in a patronizing voice and patting him on the cheek before swinging her leg over her bike. "Keep at it and you might even manage to get a legitimate laugh from me one of these days."

Hal rolled his eyes and climbed onto his bike as well. "Hey, I'm funny. I'm all kinds of funny."

"Oh, my poor sweet Hal," she returned with a look of pity on her face. "He's cute, but he's not very bright."

Hal blinked and widened his eyes a bit as she smirked back. When he opened his mouth to retort she kicked her bike into gear so that the roaring of the engine would drown out his voice. Hal glared at her and shook his head, so she smiled and winked, revving the engine.

"And away we go," she muttered under her breath. One by one, they all pulled out and moved down the road. Evelyn smiled into the wind as it whipped through her hair. She loved that bike and she loved that road. She loved it because as she zoomed back and forth on that road, she felt like she could fly.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

It was always strange coming back to camp after a mission. For Evelyn it always required a bit of a paradigm shift. You could never escape the reality of this post-apocalyptic shitstorm of this world, not really, but things were different with the civilians around. It was like things were sadder and happier at the same time. No. That wasn't the best way to describe it. It was more like there was an overwhelming sense of nostalgia all the time.

Sometimes Evelyn would just sit and watch the people go about their business. Kids would play, adults would talk and go about their work—it could have been a really big block party if it wasn't for the dirt and the blood and the stink. Afterwards she would hurt a bit. There would be a sort of ache in her chest. Here these people were—accountants, librarians, college students, mechanics—trying their best to stay brave, to stay happy, but she knew that from experience that there days, even at your happiest, there was always a part of you that stayed sad. But she liked that ache. It was substantial. It was real. And more than anything else it was constant. Everything around her was in a perpetual state of flux, but that—that was something that stayed with her no matter what.

Evelyn walked briskly through camp, weaving back and forth between the people. When she finally made it to Max's tent, she quickly brushed through. "Hey, Max," said, walking in. "I've got to—"

The wind was knocked out of her as a hurricane with curly blonde hair collided with her. Evelyn looked up, bemused. Max and Cecelia were at the card table, eating dinner, and Max was grinning like an idiot. She rolled her eyes at him and looked down at the little girl whose arms were wrapped around her waste. "Hey there Marjorie," she mumbled, encircling her arms around the little girl and kissing the top of her head. "How was your day?"

Marjorie released her and looked up with a huge smile on her face. Her front tooth was missing, but for some reason that just made her even more adorable. She was bouncing up and down on her feet, vibrating with excitement. "It was the best day ever, Auntie Eve!" she said excitedly. "First I played soccer with the two Sams and I scored a goal and then I played checkers with Mr. Tector."

"Did you leave Mr. Tector a crying mess?" Evelyn asked, kneeling down to bring her to eye level with the girl.

Marjorie bit her lip and nodded happily. "I most certainly did."

Evelyn lifted up a hand for a high-five, and Marjorie gave her six of them. Evelyn felt a smile creep up on her face. Marjorie always seemed to have that effect on people, making them happy for a while. The only downside about it was that it always had to end.

"Good for you, Sprout," she said, pushing the curls out of her face and kissing her on the forehead. "You can tell me all about your glorious victory tomorrow, but for now I need to have a meeting with Max. Is that okay?" Marjorie pursed her lips and her shoulders slumped. She was disappointed. Evelyn put a hand on Marjorie's shoulder and looked her in the eye. "I promise."

Evelyn stood up fully and gave Max a meaningful look. He nodded and kissed Cecelia on the cheek before she stood up and ushered her little girl out of the tent. "You two don't get into too much trouble," she said as she stepped out the tent. The words were innocuous enough, but in combination with that poignant look she gave them it carried more weight than face value would saddest.

"She worries about you when you're in the field, you know," Max said, wheeling his chair towards her. "After your three month vacation every time you go she keeps asking if you're coming back."

Evelyn stared at the ground and started pushing the dirt around with the toe of her boot. For some reason Marjorie's worry made her feel guilty. "What do you tell her?" she asked quietly. "When she asks, what do you tell her."

"That there's no skitter big enough or bad enough to keep Auntie Eve from getting home."

Evelyn snorted and kicked some dirt at him. "You flatter me."

"Only on Tuesdays," he replied with a smile. He clapped his hands and rubbed them together enthusiastically. "Okay, so I'm on pins and needles here. What's up with the bridge? When are we getting this show on the road?"

Evelyn sat in Cecelia's empty chair and began digging into the leftover food. "Jamil's starting to build decking to cover up that hole. We should be leaving tomorrow night."

"Do we know what's on the other side?"

Evelyn swallowed heavily, forcing a mouthful of crunchy rice and mushy beans. "We don't know yet. Ben and I are going to swim across the river tonight and check it out. Which is why I'm here." She cleared her throat and pushed away the plate. "I'm going to need a gun, and I can't exactly swim with an assault rifle. I'm going to need a handgun. Call me sentimental, but I'd like to have my old one back—your old one, I guess. I was wondering if you might know where it is."

Max exhaled sharply in a sort of smug laugh. He turned and wheeled himself towards a trunk that was sitting in the back left corner of the tent, prying open the lid and fishing around. "Hal brought it back," he mumbled as he rooted around. "He said you'd want me to have it. Smart boy, that one."

"He is," she said quietly, "don't ever tell him I said so, though. I would never hear the end of it."

Max closed the trunk with a loud clank. "You know, I'm still hoping you two crazy kids get your shit together. All this Sam and Diane crap is starting to give me an ulcer."

"Who the hell are Sam and Diane?"

Max rolled his eyes. "I forgot. You're young and naïve." He rolled back towards her and held out the box. She took it and ran her hand over the smooth, wood surface. She opened it and pulled out the gun. The cool metal felt good in her hands, and the weight just felt right.

"Should I leave you two alone?" Max asked with raised eyebrows.

Evelyn let out a soft laugh. "Just getting reacquainted."

"It's not loaded. Didn't want anybody else to use it. For some reason it just didn't seem right."

She looked back at Max and offered up a soft smile. "Thanks, Max. I don't know what to say."

Max sighed and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah, well—don't go getting all sappy on me. Just make sure I didn't lie to Marjorie just now."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Ponch," she said, placing the gun in the waistband of her pants.

"You can make a 'Chips' reference, but you don't know 'Cheers'?" he asked in wide-eyed disbelief. "That makes absolutely no fucking sense."

Evelyn had started laughing—a real, genuine laugh—when all the sudden Cecelia stuck her head in the tent. There was something in her face that Evelyn just didn't like. It was the sort of face people make when they're about to deliver bad news. "Hey, um, I'm not interrupting anything important, am I?"

"Nope," Evelyn said popping the 'p'. "Max here is just being an idiot, so it's pretty much the same standard stuff." She looked down at her watch and pursed her lips. "And I've got to head out nowish to get myself ready for the patrol." Cecelia kept opening and closing her mouth, like she was trying to say something, but the words just wouldn't come out. "Is there something you need to tell up, Cecelia?" she asked hesitantly.

"I—I went to visit with Anne, to help her clean up the bus. It's just been so busy there lately, she really needs the help."

"What is it, Cece?" Max asked soothingly. "It's okay. You can tell us."

She sighed and ran her hands through her long, blonde hair. "Tom collapsed. Hal showed up, dragging him. I just—I thought you should know."

Evelyn didn't bother with any goodbyes. She flew out of the tent and sprinted all the way to the medical bus, nearly taking out two or three pedestrians on her way. She skidded to a halt when she finally got there, almost like a cartoon. She spun around looking for—hell, she wasn't sure what she was looking for. A solution to the problem, maybe. But it seemed like every time they solved a problem, another would crop up and ruin her day. Evelyn ran her hands down her face and tried to collect her thoughts which were running rampant inside her head. After the blood stopped pumping in her ears she heard familiar voices. It was a hushed whisper, but she would recognize that voice anywhere.

"—Look, it's Dad," Hal said quietly, "those old fishheads couldn't change him if they tried. He escaped their ship didn't he? He found his way back to us" despite everything they did to stop him. He's going to beat this too."

"You bet your ass he is," she called out, pulling aside the fabric of the medical tent that separated her from the voice. She walked up to Hal and put a hand on his shoulder which he then covered with his own. Matt looked really small in his chair, like he was huddling into a ball like he was trying to hide. "He's going to be okay, Matt. Really, he is. All those months on the road taught me one thing. The love that man has for his boys is a hell of a lot stronger and more unrelenting than anything else out there. You understand me, little man?"

Matt folded his arms across his chest and scooted back in his chair, somehow managing to make himself look even smaller. "Yeah, yeah, I understand."

Evelyn crouched down to the ground and took Hal's hand in hers. He sat up straighter and squeezed her hand. "Hey," she said softly so that Matt couldn't hear, making his eyes snap to hers. "What happened? Tom was doing fine at the bridge. We've been back what? Fifteen minutes?"

Hal paused for a moment and looked back at Matt, who was staring out into the distance, wrapped up in his own little world. He turned back to her and jerked his head, indicating for her to follow him. The two of them ducked out of the tent. Once they made it outside, Hal bent over at the waist, braced his hands on his knees, and took several deep breaths. He had been holding it together in the tent for Matt, but he was freaking out in a big, big way. Evelyn rubbed circles on his back. "Hey," she whispered in his ear, "hey, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Hal cleared his throat and stood straight, slapping his cheeks like he was trying to wake himself. "No, I'm good," he said in a determined voice. "It just—it just happened so freaking fast. I mean, we weren't even here ten minutes when—He just, he freaked out, started yelling, and then he just collapsed on the ground. There was—" he paused and stared at the ground. "There was blood coming out of his eye."

"Fuck," she muttered under breath. She tried to find something comforting to say, but for the life of her she couldn't think of anything to say.

"Yeah, that about sums it up," Hal replied bitterly. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of her hands, like he was trying to clear away a disturbing image. "Evey, could I ask you about something my dad said. About him. About the time he was …away"

Evelyn frowned. "I'm not sure if I'll have an answer for you. You Masons seem to be a complicated bunch."

"Yeah, we're a bunch of freaking enigmas," he sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "My dad said that there were big gaps in his memory from when he was on that ship. Do you know anything about that?"

She shrugged her shoulders in response. "I know about as much as Tom does. I wasn't conscious the whole time, but I knew we were on that ship for weeks. When Tom came out, he seemed to think that it had only been a few days, a week tops."

"So you think they could have done something to him?"

Evelyn closed her eyes and rocked back on her heels. She had been afraid of something like this, of that kind of topic being approached. Especially with Hal. But she would answer anyway, because he deserved that much at least. "It's more than possible," she mumbled quietly. She didn't want Hal to hear, it felt too much like a confession for her as well. "They could have done something to me, too." It was almost the truth, but she couldn't make herself take that extra little step past the line of doubt. She was still too weak for that.

From the way that Hal was twitching she could tell that he hadn't gotten all the answers he wanted just yet, but his hesitancy was making her nervous. Her hands went straight to the dog tags around her neck, running her thumb over the grooves in the metal. "If there's something else you want to ask, Hal, just ask it. You always start scratching when you want to ask uncomfortable questions."

Hal exhaled sharply and folded his arms across his chest. "The thing is….Dad asked me to watch him, to make sure that he wasn't acting hinky or doing anything that could hurt the 2nd Mass. He asked me to stop him. With lethal force if necessary."

"I don't see a question in there, Hal."

Hal's jaw twitched a bit. He wanted to ask this question even less than she wanted to answer it. "My question is do you know why. I mean, I'm trying to understand, but I just can't. Who would ask something like that?"

"I would," she replied shortly.

Hal's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. "Evey, what the fu—"

Evelyn took a step forward and looked at Hal steadily. "I talked to Weaver about it, told him if he saw anything…hinky…that he shouldn't hesitate to shoot me between the eyes."

Hal buried his face in his hands and let out a strangled, frustrated cry that made her shudder. "What the hell, Evey! What the hell is _wrong_ with the two of you? You are literally asking people to kill you! Why would you do something like that?"

"Because it's better than the alternative," she said. She tried to keep her voice steady, but that angry, vibrating feeling had already started in her extremities.

"What alternative could possibly be worse than that?" he demanded, throwing his hands in the air in frustration.

"That I kill you!" she screamed loudly. She closed her eyes and took a breath, only opening them again when her heart rate slowed back down. "The alternative is that I kill you. Or Ben, Tom, Matt, Anne. I'd rather be dead than have that happen. Which is why, if I start acting hinky, I want someone to kill me. And if I felt like I was going to hurt someone, I'd do it myself."

Hal bounced up and down on his heels and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why didn't you ask me to do it?" he asked quietly. "Why did you go to Weaver first?"

Evelyn sighed heavily. "Would you have done it? If I asked you to, would you have said yes?"

Hal gave her a sad smile and shook his head. "No. No, I wouldn't."

"That's why I didn't ask you. I didn't want to make you agree to something like that."

He let out a sad laugh and stared out at nothing. "Well, thanks…I guess."

"Hey," Evelyn said leaning her head down so it fell into his line of vision, making him look at her. "I'm not saying it's going to happen. To me or to Tom. In fact, I really hope that it doesn't."

Hal looked at her with a strange expression on his face. It was sad, but there was something else in there too, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to know what it was. "I don't want you to go away again," he said quietly. He shook his headed and plastered that cocky smile back on his face. "It takes forever to train a new partner, and I have no patience for nubes. They trip over and make way too much noise."

She stepped forward and punched his shoulder awkwardly. "I'm not going anywhere, Hal. I'm sticking with the 2nd Mass like a bad rash."

Hal let out a genuine bark of laughter and opened his mouth to respond when a loud shout cut him off.

"Walsh!" Dai's voice rang out from a few yards away. "It's time for you to suit up! Weaver wants you, Ben, and Jimmy out of here in fifteen!"

"Got it!" she shouted back.

Hal raised his eyebrows sardonically. "Looks like you are going somewhere," he said with a sort of dark humor.

Evelyn rolled her eyes and pulled him into a hug. "But I'm coming back. I'll always come back. And it won't take me as long as it did last time."

Hal snorted. "That's not saying much."

**Special thanks to JDMlvr1, LucyRider17, BookWorm0001, MoonlitSorrows, Niamh O'Mahoney, CalaisForever, and my old chummy, old pal LMScatterbrain for reviewing. You guys are the best.**

**Also, you should really check out the story 'From Your Lips' by LMScatterbrain. It is a seriously interesting story, with loads of creativity in terms of point of view. I'm serious, check it out.**


	11. What's Lurking in the Dark?

**Hi, guys. Welcome to chapter 10. Thank you to all who read/followed/favorited and a special thank you to Druid Archer, LucyRider17, BookWorm0001, Moonlit Sorrows, and Niamh O'Mahoney for reviewing.**

**LucyRider: Jimmy dies in the third episode of season 2 and right now I'm on episode 2. I'm including him a bit more in my story now. He hasn't played such a big role in it so far, and I really want people to miss him when he's gone, because I do. He has a few more chapters left in him.**

**BookWorm0001: I know, right. He's smart enough, but when it comes to people he can be a real idiot in the way he interacts. I hope he's not coming off as out of character. I worry about that kind of thing, and if you have any pointer, shout back at me. P.S. I really like your story.**

**Moonlit Sorrows: Color me flattered! The fact that you think highly enough of my story to recommend it is just….wow! And tell your friend thanks for reading.**

**Niamh O'Mahoney: 'Zombieland' is officially one of the best things ever! Not quite on par with 'Shaun of the Dead' in my opinion, but still awesome. That reminds me, I've got to work in some 'Shaun of the Dead' references.**

**Druid Archer: (-) to you to.**

**Eek. Long author's note. Well here goes the usual disclaimers and stuff.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not have and scruffy little beard. Therefore I am not Steven Spielberg and do not own 'Falling Skies'. Any familiar dialogue is taken from the show.**

**Photos of OCs, soundtracks, yadda, yadda, yadda. I'm sure you've all gotten the picture by now.**

Chapter 10 – What's Lurking in the Dark?

It was strange, her sudden ability to see in the dark. Evelyn could remember when she was little she had absolutely hated it, not being able to see. It was like there was constantly something hiding in the background, just waiting to jump out at her. She used to keep a night-light in her room until she turned eleven. Then her father told she was a big girl, and big girls weren't scared of the dark, so the night light got taken away. She had cried at first, but after a few weeks she wasn't scared anymore. And that was probably a good thing, given how much time she had been spending in the dark lately. And especially since now there actually were things waiting to jump out at her. It used to be that she wanted to see in the dark, but now that she finally could, she hated it. She absolutely hated it.

Evelyn stood on the sandy river bank and stared out across the water. Night had fallen during the trip back to the broken down bridge. She had traded in her usual bagging cargo pants and flannel in for a tighter black T-shirt and black exercise pants for the swim across, and apparently that did not make for a comfortable bike ride. The thin sliver of a crescent moon was all the light that there was left to see by. By all rights, she should be completely blind, but she could see across to the other bank of the river. She was staring at her next mission, but her mind kept wandering back to Tom in that bus.

What the hell had had happened to Tom? What the hell could make someone bleed from their eyes? All this time Evelyn had assumed that she was the one who was the ticking time bomb, that, of the two of them, she would be the one to break. A wave of nausea hit her stomach as she thought of Ben, who still didn't know about his father's condition. She wanted to tell him, he deserved to know. But she had promised Hal she wouldn't, and, honestly, telling him would serve absolutely no purpose. In fact, it might even be harmful.

There was a sound of sand and rocks crushed under feet from somewhere behind her. She looked to her right to see Jimmy coming in line with her. "You ready for this?" he asked, staring straight ahead.

Evelyn let out a light laugh and shifted on her feet. "If I'm not, it's a little too late now, isn't it?" She cleared her throat and nodded a little. "Anyway, I was born ready."

"Well it's good to have you back," he said punching her lightly on the shoulder. "Life sucks a little bit less with you and Tom back here."

She let out a bark of laughter and elbowed him in the side. "Thanks for the ringing endorsement, Jimmy. Glad to know I was missed so much."

"You were," he said with a sigh. "You get so used to people disappearing, you know? They go out on missions and then just don't come back. It just—it feels like it means something to have you two come back. So—seeing as I didn't say it before—welcome back."

Evelyn looked over at the boy standing next to her. He actually was starting to look a lot like Weaver, with the steely glare and the stern, set jaw that was covered in the very last vestiges of baby fat that would soon disappear. Hell, he had even started growing out his hair. Soon it would be long enough for him to fashion a manly ponytail of his own. He couldn't be any more than fourteen years old, the same age as Amy. Back in the real world he would be freaking out about starting high school, playing X-Box, or just starting to worry about girls, but here he was standing on a beach with an automatic rifle in his hands.

The new generation of stoic warriors. That was what Evelyn saw when she looked at Jimmy. They hadn't completed puberty yet, but they could fight and they could die, all in the name of humanity. Apparently Amy had been one of them. Evelyn thought back to when she had first met that stubborn little girl. She had been wearing that frayed blue dress and had those blonde braids, and she already had that expression of defiance on her face. Such a child still. That meeting had been barely over six months ago and since then…..Evelyn tried to imagine Amy as a soldier, as a warrior. She knew that Amy would have been amazing in such a capacity, she had the skill, the ferocity, and the determination, but for some reason she couldn't shake the image of a small girl with blonde pigtails and a ratty blue dress holding an AK-47. It was both sad and ridiculous, and it made that empty feeling that never fully left her ache just a little bit more.

Evelyn cleared her throat and wiped at the moisture forming at the corners of her eyes. This wasn't the time for tears. She shook her head, getting her thoughts back in order, and cleared her throat. "Thanks, Jimmy," she said turning back to the boy next to her. "Is this the part where we hug and cry like little girls?"

He shot her a hostile glare, which was somewhat betrayed by the small smile that was forming at the corner of his lips. "Shut up," he growled in a low voice. "There's no room for sappy in the Resistance. We're battle-hardened warriors, not weepy schoolgirls."

"That's sexist, Jimmy," she said with a look of reproach coloring her face.

"But you just said—"

Jimmy's indignation was cut off by Ben walking up behind them. "Okay," he said in a rather business-like voice. "It's time to get this show on the road. Evey, you got your supplies?"

"Sir, yes, sir," she returned with an ironic salute, lifting a Ziploc containing her gun and flashlights. "I forgot the trail mix though."

"Shut up," he replied through a small snort of laughter. He grabbed the bag and shoved it in his pack. "I'll carry the supplies across the river. I'm the better swimmer, the drag won't affect me as much."

"Alright, Mr. Grumpy," Evelyn replied shortly. He was right. Even with her current physical 'enhancements', he was still far stronger than her, and far faster. In fact, she was probably entirely irrelevant to this mission. He could do all on his own, and it would probably be faster, too. Still, in her experience backup was always a good thing to have around. The shit had this uncanny way of hitting the fan at the most inopportune moments, turning what should be a simple recon mission into a major loss for the 2nd Mass.

Ben ignored her and clicked his flashlight on an off to test if it worked, making sure to cover the light with his hand so as not to give away their location before the mission had even started. "When we get back, the signal will be the flashing light. One long, two short means it's us."

"All clear is two short, one long," Jimmy replied. "If you've got skitters following you—"

"You get the first shot," Ben finished for him.

"Awesome," Jimmy said, nodding slightly. Evelyn smiled a bit. She knew it was much more serious than that, and she knew the two boys took it more seriously than that, but sometimes the way they talked made it sound like they were strategizing for some sort of 'World of Warcraft' play. She bit her lip and hoped that they weren't running into some sort of Leroy Jenkins-esque disaster scenario.

Suddenly Jimmy shifted on his feet and cleared his throat awkwardly, turning to Ben. "Wait, uh, you might need this," he said, fishing out something around his neck and handing it to the middle Mason.

Ben looked up at Jimmy with an expression of confusion on his face. "Weaver's compass?"

Evelyn blinked and glanced between the two boys. Before she had 'gone on vacation', the state of affairs between the two had not exactly been amicable. In fact, she had kind of gotten the impression that Jimmy hated Ben, not necessarily for anything he had done but because of the spikes in his back. And now they were here engaging in that weird dance guys do when they try to show they care about their friends, but are too 'manly' to express the emotion outright. Shit. Battle did have a way forging relationships where none existed before. When you save someone's life—or they save yours—there's this kind of obligatory bond that is formed. Hell, that was the reason she was friends with Max. Under different circumstances she didn't really see that unlikely pairing working out.

Jimmy shoved his hands in his pockets and did his best to look nonchalant. "Yeah," he said in a casual voice, "just don't make me come after it. The water's freaking freezing."

Ben let out a light laugh and turned away, moving towards the water. "It's invigorating," he called out over his shoulder.

"Jesus," Evelyn said through light laughter, "when it comes to macho male posturing, there really isn't any issue too small, is there?"

"Invigorating!" Ben shouted again, wading into the water and sounding only vaguely hostile. "Come on, Evey. We don't have all night!"

"Okay, then," Evelyn said taking a deep breath. She turned to Jimmy and clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll bring you back a souvenir. A nice snow globe or something."

As Evelyn took her first steps into the water, she swore under her breath. It was really, _really_ fucking cold, but there was no way she'd give Ben the satisfaction of hearing her say it. Soon enough her body adjusted to the cold, except her fingers and toes which had pretty much gone numb. Part of her was almost grateful for that swim. It was the closest she had gotten to an actual bath in—well in months. That was just gross. Apparently when living through the apocalypse you couldn't really expect to maintain good hygiene.

The feeling of the water slipping through her fingers was comfortable and nostalgic. It had been so long since she had gone swimming that this almost felt like recreation rather than a potentially life-threatening mission instrumental to saving the 200 remaining residents of the 2nd Mass. Glancing above the water line she saw that Ben had outstripped her, but not by as much as she had expected him to. Apparently he hadn't expected it either. When she finally arrived at the opposite river bank, she found him standing over her with a surprised expression on his face. She just stared back. "So are we going to do this thing?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at him and pushing the wet hair clinging to her forehead out of her face.

"I was waiting on you," he said tersely, holding out a hand to pull her to her feet. Evelyn twisted the hair of her ponytail, wringing out the water and Ben pulled the supplies out of his bag. Within a few moments they were crossing the tree line and heading into the forest, with a gun in hand and a flashlight tucked into the waistband of their pants. Neither of them mentioned their ability to navigate perfectly through a forest in the dead of night. It had become a taboo topic between the two of them.

"So," she whispered quietly and they dodged between trees, "when did you and Jimmy become so close? The way I remember it, he wasn't exactly your biggest fan."

Ben didn't bother to look at her. In fact, something told her that he was actively avoiding looking at her. "A lot changed while you were away. People change. I changed."

"I'm all too aware of that, Ben," she said bitterly, and perhaps with a little frustration. She understood the need to keep your problems to yourself, she was going through a lot of that these days, but the standoffishness of Ben 2.0 was really starting to piss her off. It wasn't just the anger that got to her, it was the apparent determination he had to push absolutely everybody away from her.

Look, Ben," she said angrily, "I know you're not exactly happy with me right now what with yesterday's yelling and everything, but of all the people here I'm the best equipped to know and understand the massive shitstorm of a life you're living through, and I think you know that. So could you stop being an ass and start talking like a functional human being. Everybody has to talk to someone Ben. It doesn't have to be me, but you should talk to someone. Otherwise all that stuff you're keeping pent up inside is going to fester and leave you rotten."

It struck Evelyn that she was being a little bit of a hypocrite. She had shared her concerns with Tom, Anne, and Weaver, but that was out of practicality and necessity rather than out of the need for an emotional release. She was still scared shitless all the time, but tried her best to keep that from everybody. Most of the time she told herself that that was some noble form of self-sacrifice to spare them the concern. In reality it was because she was afraid if she told them, they would treat her like some weak thing that needed to be taken care of, and that would just make the fear all the more real.

Ben and Evelyn continued on in silence for several minutes. Everything was still except for those last few sounds of nature that remained, the wind through the trees and the rushing of the river they had left behind, and the sound of two sets of feet hitting the forest floor.

"It was Amy to start off with," Ben whispered suddenly, making Evelyn turn to him suddenly. He shot her a quick glance, but then turned back to face the forest in front of him. "She and Jimmy had become good friends." Evelyn detected a note of jealousy in his voice when he said that, but she chose to ignore it. "Anyway," he continued, "she sort of yelled at him, set him straight saying that I was different from Rick. She said he was being a judgmental asshole and that just because I had gone through a 'modifying experience' didn't make me any less human. Of course she managed to say it in a more colorful way than I did." He sighed and scratched the back of his head in a way that reminded her of Hal. "After that—I don' know. He gave me a chance, I guess. And then we started fighting together, and then it just—it just worked."

"I suppose it's hard to stay suspicious that someone is a skitter-lover when they're so good at killing them," Evelyn mused.

"You're right, Evey," he said, putting a hand on her arm. "We are the best equipped to understand each others' situations. Especially, now." Evelyn subconsciously raised her hand to touch the back of her neck, but Ben grabbed it and pulled it away. "So if one of us is really going to fly off the handle or something, we go and tell each other the truth. We're not going to agree with each other, though."

Evelyn pressed her lips together in a thin line and nodded. Ben had that sort of shifty-eyed look about him, the same one Matt had had when he told her that he would wait for his father's consent before running off and learning how to shoot. The down side to being a member of a family as close as the Masons was that they shared many of the same tells. And Evelyn had known them long enough to know what most of them were. Ben was lying to her right now. He had told her that story to appease her, and now he was telling her exactly what she wanted to hear so that she would leave him alone and let him get back to his usual broody ways. But she could play that game too. She would let it go—for now—but this was definitely not the last time the topic would be addressed.

"I can get on board with that." She held out her right hand. He stared at it for a second before grasping it and giving it a firm shake. She probably squeezed a little harder than she had to, but she was still seething a bit, and he deserved that little twinge of pain. A swift kick to the groin would be ideal, but it was hardly professional.

After that the two of them went completely silent. They had probably been talking way too much anyway. It had been quiet enough not to draw any attention to themselves, but they did have a mission to complete after all. For some reason weaving through those trees with a gun in hand kind of made Evelyn feel like she was playing laser tag. Up to this point, all of her missions had been oriented in Boston, in that sort of urban setting. In those missions most everything had been out in the open. There was that scattered pattern of burnt out cars, but over all visibility was pretty good. Here there were so many places a skitter could just pop out and attack her like one of those sadistic little kids with their toy guns.

They had probably made it about a mile in from the river when Ben suddenly doubled over, clutching at his head. Evelyn ran to his side and leaned over next to him. "Ben!" she whispered harshly. "Ben, what is it?"

He pushed her aside without a word and stumbled forwards. She followed him, calling out softly until she felt like she had walked past some invisible barrier. A sudden pain erupted in her skull. It was like the migraines she used to get, only much, much worse. And there was this noise. It sounded like that slight ringing sound that you can hear when you put the TV on mute, but amplified to an absurd extreme. It took all Evelyn's strength to keep herself standing up straight.

She came in line with Ben and saw moonlight glinting off some metallic surface. She pulled out her flashlight and clicked it on, revealing the wreckage of the ship Dai had shot down earlier that day. With each step she took towards the warped metal, the ringing sound got louder and louder, making her grit her teeth and clench her jaw, forcing herself not to cow under the pain.

Ben leaned down and ripped off a metal panel, revealing the interior and making the sound louder than ever. "Holy shit," Evelyn muttered as she got a look at what was inside. It was both disgusting and eerily beautiful at the same time. Evelyn felt her stomach clench. She had seen something like this before in the ship, in that weird throne room of the Overlord. She presumed that she was staring at the inner working of the ship, but it didn't contain metal gears. What it contained was a pulsing, organic component that looked like glowing portion of a firefly. It left Evelyn with a lot of questions. Was this some form of biotechnology? Was this what was in the interior of mechs (she had never seen it before)? And, above all else, was this an actual living creature—something sentient, that was aware of its surroundings—encased in metal and sent off to fight?

Ben leaned over the thing and snapped a photo with the camera he had brought and then stamped it out of existence. Evelyn could swear she heard screaming as his foot made contact. The ringing noise that had been plaguing her petered out and died with the light of the ship. Evelyn let out an involuntary sigh of relief as her brain was no longer being held hostage to the pain. "Do you always hear that when you get close to them?" she asked Ben, sticking a finger in her ear and wiggling it around to try and eliminate the vestiges of tinnitus.

"You heard that too?" he asked, turning to her suddenly.

"Yeah," she said, nodding slowly. "Yeah, I did. It probably wasn't as bad for me as it was for you, but I heard it." She pulled at her ponytail nervously and turned to face him. "It's like I said yesterday, Ben. You're not the only one who's afraid they've changed you. I know what it's like to have that kind of fear. And I know what it's like to ask someone to stop you if it comes down to it."

Ben furrowed his eyes and looked at her with a penetrating expression. "What do you mean 'stop you'?"

"It's a euphemism, Ben," she replied, returning her flashlight to her waistband. "You're a smart kid, you can figure it out."

"I'm not a kid," he mumbled under his breath.

Presumably she wasn't supposed to hear him, but her new auditory capabilities allowed her to anyway. "Then stop acting like a kid," she shot back.

The two of them made it a few more steps forward where there was a large, dark shadow flitted across their path accompanied by a crashing noise. Evelyn quickly cocked her gun and went for her flashlight, bracing them together so her gun was aiming in the same direction as the light. She felt the tension in her shoulders release a bit when her eyes fell on a deer. Despite the intense fear she had felt just moments before, she couldn't help but smile a bit. This was the fist animal she had seen in months, other than the rats and the squirrels, and the occasional pigeons. It looked right at her for a moment before prancing away. Her eyes followed it. The way it moved, there was a sort of majesty to it.

"Get your head in the game, Walsh," she muttered to herself. She couldn't afford to get distracted. After all, in horror movies the menace strikes directly after a false alarm. Something about building suspense or some shit like that. Evelyn was finding far too many similarities between her life and horror movies these days.

She and Ben moved forward through the brush, making their way up the hill in front of them. Before getting too far, Evelyn felt her head being assaulted by that same painful ringing that she had experienced near the ship. She looked over at Ben and saw his face screwed up in pain. They were definitely close to something. This new 'condition' of hers might be a pain—literally—but it was also very useful. Sort of like a skitter radar.

Knowing that they were close to their goal, Evelyn ducked low to the ground to make herself as small and inconspicuous as possible, never releasing her tight grip on her gun. When she reached the crest of the hill, her mouth dropped open in shock.

"What the fuck?"

Evelyn stared, slack-jawed, at the sight in front of her. It was a tower or some other sort of structure about a hundred meters tall. Like the structure over Boston, it looked like it was cobbled together with bits of scraps collected from the area around it. But this thing was different from the Boston structure. It was small, thinner, but it appeared to still be incredibly important, given that it had a guard of three—no, four—mechs. And then there were the airships. She counted three separate airships docking there and moving out. What the hell could it be? She would have to think on that one for a while.

Ben pulled out his camera for a second time and snapped a few pictures. That was it. There mission was over. To be honest, she found it a bit anticlimactic, finding something like that and then just leaving it there. She always felt that way with recon missions, but that was the way of it. But that sort of unfulfilled feeling didn't stop her from being absolutely terrified.

A minimum of four mechs. An unknown number of airships. Those weren't great odds, but if the party was small enough, maybe they could launch some sort of guerilla attack without being noticed. Evelyn turned to face Ben to indicate that they should head back out, but found that he was already looking at her.

"Evey," he whispered in a steady voice, "on a scale of one to ten, how screwed are we."

"Seven."

**So there's chapter 10. It was a bit shorter than the previous ones because I had initially intended on finishing episode 2 in one chapter, but this started running long and, well you get it.**

**I have a question for you guys. I've been thinking about my writing style. I feel like it has changed over time, especially since the last story, and would like to get your perspective on it. Better? Worse? Should I include more dialogue and do less internal monologuing?**

**Anywho, love you guys! Please review.**

**Also, sorry there's no Hal in this chapter, but I don't want my character to be contingent upon him. It's a story about a girl during the alien apocalypse who happens to have a guy that she really likes, and that figures into her story. I hope that is OK with you.**


	12. Seeing Red

**Thank you to everybody for reading/following/favoriting.**

**A big thank you to MoonlitSorrows, Niamh O'Mahoney, MySoxRock, JDMlvr1, LucyRider17, and Izzy-i.r.t. for reviewing.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not have and scruffy little beard. Therefore I am not Steven Spielberg and do not own 'Falling Skies'. Any familiar dialogue is taken from the show.**

**Photos of OCs, soundtracks, are on my profile.**

Chapter 11 – Seeing Red

The sun was already several degrees past mid-day when the three of them finally made it back to the 2nd Mass, and Evelyn was tired. More than once on the ride home she had found herself fantasizing about down covers and feather pillows, but it wasn't time for sleep. Not yet, anyway. The hum of the bike beneath her was oddly soothing and she had to shake herself awake more than once, mentally berating herself for being so careless. Regardless of her close calls with consciousness, she found she was becoming more and more accustomed to going thirty hours or more without sleep. Max had warned her about that kind of sleep deprivation, it was something he had become accustomed to while serving with the marines. His general rule of thumb was that when the sun started to look red instead of yellow, it was time to take a breather. Anything short of that, you just had to keep going.

But those fantasies had only taken up a small portion of her mind, most of it was dedicated to that structure and what the hell its purpose was. She ran over the details in her mind, visualizing it as if it was directly in front of her. It was important, the sentries guarding it made that much clear. And the ships were congregating there…for what? Maintenance was a distinct possibility, but was it maintenance of the ships or of the structure itself? And why weren't there any skitters there? All the hostiles she had seen were of the metal variety. And then there was that ringing sound in her head, it was the same from both the ship and from the tower. Taking all the factors into account, she had a pretty solid idea. Whether or not it would hold up…well that depended on those pictures and the debriefing.

Upon reaching their destination, Evelyn slammed on the brakes and skidded to a halt, sending bits of gravel flying like hailstones. She quickly hopped off her bike and shook out her extremities to keep them from cramping up. A few moments later Ben and Jimmy pulled up behind her. She took a deep breath and slapped her cheeks to wake herself up.

"Okay guys," she said turning to the two younger boys, "I'm sure you know this is time sensitive, so let's get a move on. Jimmy, can you get the film to Jamil? We need to get it developed as soon as possible."

"Sure thing, Boss Lady," he said giving her a casual salute. Ben tossed him the film and he plucked it out of the air with ease. "And I was promised a snow globe!" he shouted back over his shoulder.

"Scouts are back!" a booming, southern drawl cried out. Evelyn spun around on her heels to see Tector approaching with a rifle casually resting on his shoulder. "How went the mission, Wonder Woman? Did ya find something for us to shoot at?"

"Afraid so, Chuck Norris," she replied, plucking the dead leaves out of her hair. "Nothing small either, lots of toasters walking around and a construction, too. I need to be debriefed. Do you know where Weaver is?"

He scratched at the back of his neck in contemplation. "Can't say for sure, darlin'. Last I checked, he was havin' a closed door meeting with the lady-doctor and the professor at the medical bus. You might wanna check there. Daddy Mason seems to be havin' a rough go of things."

"What?" Ben asked suddenly. Evelyn closed her eyes and clenched her jaw. This was probably the worst way for Ben to find out about his dad, to have it thrown out so casually, to be the last to know. Especially after Tom had only just gotten out of that bus the first time. She should have told him.

Tector's face wrinkled into an apologetic grimace. "Sorry you had to find out like this, Ben. He had some sort of fit or something, then passed out. People are sayin' some weird things about it. He should still be in the med bus if ya wanna go see him."

Without another word, Ben took off running in the direction of the bus. Giving Tector a small nod of recognition, Evelyn sprinted after him. She got a swift glance at his back as he quickly climbed the stairs. Evelyn was about to follow him, but paused at the entrance, her hand grasping the rail and her foot poised to move up the steps. Ben hadn't rally spoken to his father since the two of them had gotten back to the 2nd Mass—not really. She stepped back from the entrance. The two to them needed this. If there was anyone who could help Ben get through whatever shit he had going on in his head, it was Tom, not her. She was more like a cousin or incredibly annoying older sister, somebody he could talk to, but not necessarily somebody he would listen to. Tom might actually get him to listen.

Evelyn sighed and leaned against the truck behind her. Her eyelids drooped involuntarily. It felt so nice when they were closed. It made the itching went away. . She knew that she had to find Weaver, but she couldn't make herself move. She could have fallen asleep right then and there if it hadn't been for the sudden commotion that broke out a few meters away.

It was Pope. Of course it was Pope, it was always Pope. She was surprised that the greasy-haired convict had actually stayed with the 2nd Mass after all those months. She had been back less than a week and she already wanted to kill the bastard.

"Hey, Captain," he said in a suspicious sounding voice, "I hear they pulled a circuit board out of Tom's head. Is that true?"

Evelyn blinked. What the fuck did that mean? Circuit board?

The next voice she heard belonged to Weaver. "We don't know what it is," he said in a highly moderated tone, the kind of voice people in movies use when they're in the process of diffusing a bomb. It made sense. Pope was the closest human equivalent to a bomb she had ever encountered. "Whatever it was, Dr. Glass has removed it. The scouts should be back any minute Pope, report to the CP in ten."

"The scouts are back," she called out, pushing herself off the car and walking towards them. She took slow, careful steps. She knew she was walking into the middle of a fight, but she needed to be there. If it was about Tom, it might as well be about her too. She rounded the corner of the bus only to come up behind Pope, who was facing off with Hal and Weaver. "What the hell is going on here? What's happened?"

Pope glanced over his shoulder, and the second she came within his line of sight let out a bitter snort of laughter. He turned back to Hal and Weaver. "You're not taking him across that river. Her neither," he said, jerking his thumb in Evelyn's direction. "It's not going to happen."

Evelyn felt her stomach clench. Why wouldn't they be going? She hated it when other people knew something she wasn't privy to, especially when that person was someone like Pope. If he thought he knew something about her, something bad….she shuddered to think. Whatever Pope was talking about, Weaver stood his ground, his eyes not betraying a single flicker of concern. "Tom's unarmed and in restraints. The situation is under control."

"You guys aren't really giving me any sort of peace of mind, here," Evelyn said in a low voice, never taking her eyes off Pope, "I say again, what the hell is going on?"

"You didn't hear, Hot Lips?" Pope demanded through a snarl. "You're cell-mate has bugs crawling around in his brain, and for all we know, yours is a fucking zoo exhibit."

Evelyn glanced between Weaver and Hal, her eyes wide. "What the fu—"

"Like I just said," Weaver interrupted in that same low, soothing cadence, "Tom is not a threat. If there is anything wrong with him, he has been contained."

"And her," Pope asked jabbing his finger at Evelyn. "She's armed, she's free. Hell, she just went on a fucking road trip. You've got razorbacks and skitter science projects running your missions for you. That doesn't work for me. There is no fucking way in which this situation is under control. The both of them could be wired in to skitter central. Now I'm sorry, but the two of you should have put a bullet in the back of their heads the second they stepped towards that ship."

Evelyn crossed her arms over her chest and planted her feet firmly on the ground. She wasn't going to bend, not for anybody, and especially not for him. "You were there too, Pope," she growled. "Why didn't you shoot me when you had the chance?"

"Call me sentimental," he said in a cavalier voice. "I should have blown your brains out right then and there. Don't know why I didn't, but I intend to rectify that error in judgment right about now."

His right hand, which had been twitching throughout the entirety of the exchange, finally got to make the move it had been so anxiously anticipating. Pope grabbed his handgun from the waistband of his pants and leveled it straight between her eyes. She didn't flinch. She didn't even blink. It was less than a second before Weaver and Hal had their weapons aimed at the back of his head. Pope smirked a bit as he heard the telltale cock of the guns behind him.

"Drop it, Pope," Hal said in a low, dangerous voice. "Drop it or I drop you." Evelyn looked at Hal. He had never even come close to really, truly harming another human being before, but his hand was shaking in anticipation. His jaw was set and she could almost hear his teeth grinding. When her eyes met his, she could see the anger behind him. No, anger was too mild a turn. It was full-on, undiluted rage.

"Cute trick, Red. Can you get him to sit and roll over too?" Pope didn't bother turning around. He just kept staring right at her. "You gonna take out your piece, Red? I know Professor X gave you back that little Glock."

"I'm not going to shoot you, Pope," she said in a calm, vaguely bored voice.

"And why is that?"

"I'm not like you," she said bitterly. "I killed a man once. I saw the life leave his eyes. It was self-defense, but—I'm not going back there again." She sighed and shoved her hands in her pockets. "If you shoot me, you shoot me. I'm not going to hide behind a gun. And I'm not going to wave one in your face to make it easier for you to blow my brains out. If you do it, you're going to look me in the eye and you're not going to have the benefit of self-defense as an excuse for it."

"That's some awfully big talk from such a little girl," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You've got Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumbass with their guns trained on me. Two guns against one? That's hardly fair."

"Actually that's three against one Pope," came another voice from somewhere behind them. Evelyn spun around to see Anthony coming up behind them with a rifle.

At that point Pope actually seemed to lose that unflappable confidence he seemed to take with him everywhere. "Anthony, you're a disappointment. I thought I was having a positive influence on you." For some reason, Anthony actually looked guilty.

Pope slowly lowered his gun, letting out a long breath and shaking his head. Once his gun was stowed away, Weaver lowered his as well, but Hal didn't. He stood there, aiming at Pope with that same enraged look on his face. Evelyn walked next to him and covered his hands with hers, bringing the gun down.

Weaver advanced on Pope with a steely-eyed glare. "There is nothing that I would like better than to truss you up and leave you here. Be thankful that we need you and your degenerates. For now. Get out of my sight."

Pope laughed and looked between the four of them with an expression that danced somewhere between pity and contempt. "Don't kid yourself, Captain. Sooner or later you're going to have to deal with the invasion of human lojacks." He turned his back to them and stalked off into the distance.

"Anthony," Weaver said, turning to the newest arrival, "you keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn't try anything. The last thing we need right now it another crisis on our hands." Anthony nodded and stalked after Pope, keeping a short distance between the two of them.

Evelyn's shoulders sagged and she rubbed at her tired eyes. Her brain was beginning to catch up and process what it was that she had just witnessed. The bad news would never stop coming, would it? It would never ever stop coming, and she was so tired of it all. She was tired of trying only to have everything blow up in her face. "Was he telling the truth?" she asked in a weak voice, looking between Hal and Weaver. "Was Tom bugged, or whatever?"

Weaver gave her a slow nod. "I'm afraid so. The thing tried to burrow in through his eye, but we managed to get it out. The thing rolled up and snapped shut like a pill bug."

"But they could be in me, too. I didn't lose time like Tom did, but they could be in me too." Nobody said anything, which was pretty much the same as a loud, resounding yes. Evelyn sighed and rubbed the back of her neck, feeling that solid mass beneath her skin. How many things could possibly be wrong with her? She had a brain tumor, some sort of alien implant, and now there could potentially a parasite crawling around in her brain. "Pope wasn't wrong. If they have a tracker in me, I could—"

"Hey," Hal said in a soothing tone, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder, "hey, if it was a tracker they would have found us days ago. And we don't even know if they did that to you. You could be fine."

She kneaded her forehead and let out a bitter snort of laughter. "Come on, Hal. What are the odds of us getting lucky at this point? I should be in restraints too. At least for now. You can bind my hands, and then after the debriefing you can lock me up with Tom. Jimmy's gotten the film to Jamil by now, so it shouldn't be long before the prints are ready."

"That would probably be best," Weaver said in a hesitant voice. "And you should probably get Anne to take a look at you as well. To see if you have any of Tom's symptoms." He walked up to her and pulled some zip-ties out of his back pocket. Evelyn wordlessly held out her hands, passively letting him encircle her wrists in plastic and pull tight. She twisted her wrists slightly, testing the restraints, and ties cut into her skin, rubbing it raw. Looking up from her hands, her eyes met Weaver's, and she saw that they were filled with regret. "I'm sorry things had to go down like this, Walsh."

She offered up a comforting smile. "It's not like we have a lot of options hear. And if it came down to it, I would have gone and found these myself."

"Alright," Weaver sighed, taking a few steps back from her. "We can't dilly-dally around here all day. We've got a job to you. Hal," he said turning to the stony-faced Mason standing next to her, "I'll need you to go and wrangle everyone. Get them to my tent for the debriefing. You can come back for Walsh after Anne takes a look at her."

Hal nodded half-heartedly, his face still solemn, but Weaver accepted the response and left the two teenagers standing there alone. Evelyn looked at Hal. This was the first time she really noticed how much he had aged over the past few months. It wasn't the kind of aging that had to do with wrinkles or grey hair or any of that sort of superficial stuff. It was behind the eyes, it was the expression. He had the face of someone who had seen much. Maybe too much. There was less swaggering and posturing and more quiet contemplation. Evelyn couldn't decide if it was a good thing or not. They all had to grow up, but at the same time it felt like there was something missing, like there was less life in him.

Hal looked at her with a pained expression on his face. "Evey, I don't like this."

"Look who's complaining," she shot back with what she hoped was a light-hearted smile on her face, "I'm the one that's got to be restrained."

The look that covered his face clearly told her that he was not amused. "This isn't a joke, Evey. Pope has been sniffing around you and Dad ever since you got back. He's not going to let this go."

Sighing, she collapsed against the car behind her. "I know that, Hal. I know that he's gunning for me. I'm just not sure that he's wrong for doing so. There's a big part of me that can't shake the feeling that I shouldn't be here, that the best thing to do would be to check out and let you guys get on with your lives without having to worry about me."

"Hey," he said, leaning next to her, "that's not true. I don't think so. Weaver doesn't think so."

She swayed a bit, knocking her shoulder into his. "I'm not going anywhere, Hal, not if I don't have to. But we can't afford to get complacent about this. It's not going to just go away, and I'm pretty sure that Pope's not the only one who thinks that way. Hell, I think that way."

Hal ran his hands down his face and groaned in frustration. "How did it all get so fucked up?" he asked weakly. "My dad and my best friend might have alien machinery crawling around in their heads, Matt is having some sort of weird rebellion phase, and Ben—What is that face about?"

Evelyn knew she must look like an idiot with that smug smile on her face. "You just said I was your best friend."

He paused for a moment, not blinking, and then folded his arms across his chest in a defensive pose. "Pshah. I did not."

"Oh, yes," she said through slightly mocking laughter, "yes you did."

"Shut up."

"You love me."

'No."

"You're in love with me."

"Evey, are you sure that you didn't get a concussion while you were on that recon mission?"

"You want to bear my children."

Hal couldn't hide the small smile that was creeping up at the corners of his mouth. "I'm not a fucking sea horse, Evey. I am a man. A big, strong, ass-kicking, manly man."

"Nope," she said popping the 'p'. "You're overcompensating. Now you've been neutered. You're my bitch. My sappy, overly emotional bitch."

"Jesus," he mumbled, no longer able to hold back his light laughter. "Alright, I don't feel bad about those restraints anymore. Did Weaver say anything about gagging you too? Because I'm thinking that's the only way to get you to shut the hell up. We've got plenty of duct tape."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Hal, that was seriously creepy."

"Yeah," he said scratching the back of his head. "I realized that as soon as it came out of my mouth."

They both stood there for a moment, staring anywhere but at each other with awkward smiles on their faces. Evelyn bit her lip and bounced up and down on her heels a little bit. "You know you're kind of my best friend too." Hal suddenly looked up at her, a little bit shocked.

"Seriously?" he asked, sounding a bit skeptical.

She shifted on her feet, uncomfortable under his gaze. "Well, yeah," she mumbled under her breath. "Don't let it feed your ego, man. That thing is already the size of Montana, if it gets any bigger it'll swallow the entirety of the continental U.S. It's not like I had many choices, anyway. Personally I think I could do better, but when there's only 10% of the population left we've all got to make sacrifices."

"Yeah," he replied, rolling his eyes, "my heart bleeds for you." He bowed his head and his shoulders started shaking with silent laughter. "Dammit, why is it that you being a complete ass always end up making me feel better?"

"Because it lets you forget," she replied in a voice that lost some of its former joviality. "For a couple of minutes you can forget about all the other shit and focus on something incredibly stupid like childish insults. It gets you out of your own noggin," she said, awkwardly lifting both bound hands to tap on the side of her own head. "And you know what," she said, looking back up at him, "most of the time that's the best part of my day."

Hal nodded weakly before turning back to her with that familiar, self-assured grin that was missing. "Well then, thanks. For being an ass."

"Any time, Hal, any time." Evelyn shot him a wide smile that she knew didn't quite reach her eyes. "Come on, man," she said, poking him in the side. "We've got work to do. We've got to blow some shit up, make sure I don't kill anyone, make sure Pope doesn't kill me, save everyone here from their untimely doom…It's going to be a long day. And you've got to go motivate the troops."

"Yeah," he said, pushing himself off the car, "I should probably be getting to work. I'll be back for you in a half hour or so."

Evelyn didn't move for a while after he left. Instead she sank to the ground and just sat there, staring off into space, unable to make herself move. She hadn't been in the best of positions before she left with Ben last night, but she didn't think it could really get any worse, especially after her discovery on the other bank of the river. And now here she was. Things had definitely gotten worse. She had laughed and smiled and teased Hal, but that was more for his benefit than for hers.

Hope was becoming more and more difficult to maintain. The constant barrage of failures and setbacks and tragedies was beginning to weigh on her. Evelyn used to be able to let those things roll off her back, but now, for some reason, every single conflict that existed seemed to be dragging her to the center of the misery. There was a sort of cold numbness that was seeping into her bones. What was it people said about freezing to death? That it was just like falling asleep? Maybe giving in to despair would be the same. And she needed to sleep. She needed to sleep so very badly.

But she couldn't. She couldn't go to sleep, and she couldn't give up. It would be so easy to close her eyes and just slip away, but the easy way was the coward's way. She needed to keep reminding herself of that, of the fact that she wasn't a coward. She wouldn't allow herself to become one. "Suck it up, princess," she muttered.

Lurching forward, she landed on her hands and knees. She awkwardly pushed herself to her feet, stumbling a bit as having her hands bound together didn't really afford her all that much stability. Finally getting up to her feet, she trudged towards the medical bus and slowly climbed the stairs.

Ben and Tom were in the back, speaking in hushed, but intense voices while Anne was closer to the front, facing away from Evelyn and sorting through supplies. At the sound of her entering, Tom raised his head and caught her eye. She bit her lip and gave him a half-hearted wave with both hands. When he saw the zip-ties around her wrists, his expression darkened, but he nodded in understanding. They were in it together. It was the both of them.

"Hey, Anne," Evelyn said in a soft voice.

"Oh, hey Evey," the older woman said, looking up from her work. "What's going on?"

Evelyn closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I think—I think it's my turn."

Anne's eyebrows furrowed in confusion until she saw Evelyn's hands and that expression was replaced with a sorrowful one. "Yeah," she said sadly, "yeah, I guess it is."

Evelyn lay back on the table, her head resting on the pillow. She hated that pillow. She felt like it was mocking her with the potential of sleep. Anne leaned over her, pulling back at her eyelids and shining the flashlight in her eyes, and the light that should have been yellow looked red. But she had to keep going. It wasn't time to sleep.

**Phew! I hope that chapter came across okay with all the dialogue and everything. I'm really not sure how I feel about it, but I hope you like it.  
**

**Evelyn's internal conflict kind of growing, but don't worry, you guys! She'll get over it eventually. She's been having a bit of a rough time of it. Hopefully I included enough fluff to make this chapter not totally depressing.**

**Anyway, please review.**


	13. Shall We Gather at the River?

**Thank you to everybody for reading/following/favoriting.**

**A big thank you to MoonlitSorrows, Niamh O'Mahoney, LucyRider17, and JDMlvr1 for reviewing. You guys are the best!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not have and scruffy little beard. Therefore I am not Steven Spielberg and do not own 'Falling Skies'. Any familiar dialogue is taken from the show.**

**Photos of OCs, soundtracks, are on my profile.**

Chapter 12 – Shall We Gather at the River

Well, this sucked. It sucked in a big, big way. Evelyn stood in the dark shadows of Weaver's tent, tucked away in the furthest corner. She knew that she was needed there—she had been a witness to what it was that lay across the river—but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was not wanted there. Not that she blamed anyone for it. It was probably even more awkward for them than it was for her, having a girl in restraints staring at them while they sorted through that bizarre photo album that she and Ben had brought back.

Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut, trying to find some relief. They still hurt her, but not for the same reason anymore. It wasn't that itching sensation that came from lack of sleep, it was a stinging ache. She had spent the better part of a half hour lying in that bed while she and Anne reenacted that scene from 'A Clockwork Orange'. Evelyn's eyes had been poked and prodded with a variety of instruments, leaving them puffy and swollen. But ultimately the entire process was of no use. Anne didn't find anything. She didn't even find a hint of anything. Evelyn understood that she should probably be relieved at the news, but for some reason it just made her even more anxious. Just because they hadn't found something didn't mean that there was nothing to find. There was always another shoe somewhere, just waiting to drop.

After finally getting off that bed, before Hal had come to get her, she stared in the dirty, smudged rearview window of the medical bus. What she saw made her cringe. A blood vessel had ruptured in her right eye, staining the white an angry red color, making her appear more malevolent and suspicious than she would have liked. While she was staring at herself, probing at her swollen eye with her fingertips, there was a sort of flash or hallucination. For a second she had thought that the reflection staring back at her belonged to the red-eyed skitter.

Bringing both of her hands up to her face, Evelyn rubbed at her eyes, trying to wipe away both the pain and the bad memories. It didn't work though, they were both still there. Taking a deep breath, she opened them again and looked at the scene in front of her. Jamil, Weaver, Hal, Ben, Max, and Anthony were all standing around the table, staring at the black and white prints. The pictures didn't do justice to how the images had looked in person, that sort of morbid but ethereal beauty. But it occurred to Evelyn that she probably shouldn't mention that. Calling the skitters, or anything they were associated with, beautiful….that probably wouldn't make people any less suspicious of her.

"Wow," Jamil said, sifting through the photos, glancing up at her and Ben. "How did you find this wreck?"

"Saw the beamer get hit and fly off," Ben answered quickly, before she even had the chance to open her mouth. "Figured it was trying to regroup with its forces. We followed the course it took. When I found the ship, we just kept going the way it was headed and found that." It was close enough to the truth, though maybe not the whole of it. Evelyn couldn't see any point in calling him out on the slight fudging of the truth. All that mattered was that the necessary information was presented.

"Good thinking, Ben," Weaver said gruffly.

Jamil leaned over the table, spreading out the photos and studying them closely. His eyes were twitching back and forth at an alarming rate, like he was trying to soak in any minute detail. "They're not using any kind of engine I've ever seen. It's some sort of organic biotechnology. Captain," he said holding up one of the photos, "we really should try and grab as much of this wreck as we can. I mean, we could learn a lot."

"It's a bad time for a science project," Anthony said, leaning over the table.

Evelyn cleared her throat and stepped out of her dark corner. "If we wait for a convenient time, we'll never learn anything. If pulling something from that wreck gives us some insight, we need to take that opportunity."

Weaver nodded slowly. "We need to learn everything we can about our enemies. Once we're across, you can take the truck and grab whatever you want. The rest of us will high-tail it into the forest. We'll get away from that base."

Evelyn walked up to the table to get a look at the pictures, trying to process all the information she was presented. She came up next to Hal, who was leaning over the table, his hands firmly planted on the edge. He looked up at her with a hesitant, concerned smile on his face, but couldn't maintain eye contact for long. She knew why—she looked frightful—and she didn't blame him for it, but it still hurt a bit. Evelyn didn't consider herself vain, but to have it be so difficult for him to look her in the eye felt like somebody had shoved a butter knife into her gut.

"We're not going anywhere if we don't know how to shut down the air power," he said, turning back to the table. "Do we see anything in the pictures that could help us do that?"

Everyone crowded in around the table. Except for Ben, that is. He stayed in the background like he was trying to distance himself from the photos and from the structure associated with it. Even with all that Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle mojo, he was still an insecure teenager. The only difference was that his insecurities were fairly unconventional ones.

"No pilot," Weaver pointed out, snapping Evelyn back to attention.

"Nope," Jamil continued. "No seats, no controls—"

"If their drones," Hal continued, "they've got to get their commands from somewhere." He picked up a photo of the structure and looked at it thoughtfully. "It's most likely this base."

"I'd agree with that," Evelyn added. "I think that this fits in pretty well with the skitters' general M.O. That scenario seems to fit their style." Everyone turn to her. She looked around at all the inquisitive faces. Her eyes were so raw she could feel them moving around inside the sockets. "It's like you said," she mumbled, reaching her bound hands out for the photo of the ship. "There's no pilot or anything, so it's got to be controlled remotely, like everything else to do with the skitters."

"How do you mean?" Jamil asked, turning to her.

"Well, think about it," she said, waving her hands over all the photos. "Everything to do with the skitters involves some sort of remote direction or whatever. Of all the mechs we've seen there's never been any living entity inside them, and it's the same with the ships. Hell, the skitters themselves are harnessed. Everything points towards them having something like a hive mind."

"Hive mind?" Weaver inquired curiously. "Girlie, what in the hell are you talking about?"

"All the orders seem to be coming from the same place—those Overlord things. And we know that they communicate with radio frequencies, so they must have some way to transmit them. It's like Hal said."

Jamil sighed picked up the photo of the structure. "So saying this is like a radio transmitter. I mean, that would be my guess."

"Yeah," Weaver muttered. "This big fly-swatter looking thing is probably an antenna."

"Okay, yeah," Jamil said, nodding and rubbing the back of his neck. "I'd say that's the most likely scenario. Hopefully if we destroy the thing, we'll be in the clear."

Hal sighed deeply and threw his photos back on the stable. "Well if it's anything like Boston, the second it goes up in flames the airships will fuck off to their home base. The best way to take out the air power would be to blow that up."

"Which is exactly what you'll do," Weaver said definitively. "Take your unit the boat, infiltrate that base, and smash that antenna. That'll keep the beamers off of us long enough to get across the bridge."

"It was heavily guarded," Ben said from somewhere behind her. "The thing is definitely important to them."

"And there weren't any skitters," Evelyn continued. "It was all metal. And the ships were docking there. If they were getting any directions, it had to be from there." She pointed at one of the photos. "That ship came and docked while Ben and I were there. It's an outpost, a relay station of sorts. There's going to be a lot of security."

"What about those mechs?" Hal asked. "They're not just going to step aside for a case full of C4."

Weaver sighed and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You're just going to have to find a way to get close enough to make the shot. We'll rendezvous with you on the other side of the bridge." Weaver turned from Hal. "Anthony. You Pope and the beserkers will cover our asses. You see those skitter and mech columns moving in, you kick them in the tail and you run like hell, 'cause once we get across we're going to blow that bridge."

There was a long, tense pause. Evelyn looked around at all the faces. Each and every one of them looked like they were staring down their eminent death. Which was actually a distinct possibility under these circumstances. "Well," she said brightly, plastering a huge grin on her face, "this is a great plan. And I, for one, am excited to be a part of it. Or not." She held her hands up and smirked. "Meeting's over. Who wants to lock me up with the other crazies?"

Hal rolled his eyes and draped an arm over her shoulders, half-ushering and half-dragging her out of the darkened tent and into the sunlight. "Hey, hey, hey," she yelled as she stumbled forwards a bit, "this is some precious cargo here and you are not being very careful."

"Shut up," he said through a mild chuckle that seemed to betray his attempts at frustration. "This entire situation is so not funny."

"It could be funny," Evelyn said, her smirk returning. "Things are only not funny when you decide they can't be funny."

"Jesus, do you hear the words that you're saying?" He stopped her and removed his arm from around her shoulders. He moved his hand up to cup her cheek, lightly running his thumb over the skin near her bloodied eye. "This isn't funny. This kind of sucks."

He was looking directly at her now, and it made her feel really, really self-conscious. She had thought that he wasn't looking at her because it looked so off-putting, but maybe it was for a completely different reason. Evelyn bit her lip and winced away from his hand. She felt like she was about to start blushing, and Evelyn Walsh did not blush. But when his hand disappeared, it made her feel cold.

"That's why we don't talk about these things, Hal," she muttered, her smile losing its mirth. "I'm always all for ignoring problems until they just go away. My eye will fix itself soon enough. And I can just tell people I got in a bar fight or something. I've never had street cred before, and I think it's about time I cash in."

Hal laughed and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, your eye will heal. But it shouldn't have to. And I shouldn't have to lock you up, you or my dad."

"Well think of it this way," she said, elbowing him lightly in the ribs. "If I was back in the real world I would be reading a textbook in a coffee shop listening to sorority chicks gossip while they get fat off of those Starbucks iced lattes. Now that's what I call the ninth circle of hell. This stuff—" she waved her hands around "—this is summer vacation."

"Jesus," Hal groaned and threw his arm over her shoulder again, "what the hell kind of family vacations did you go on as a child."

Evelyn gritted her teeth and kept going. Walking to the bus felt a little bit like running the gauntlet. With each step she took, there was another metaphorical whip cracking at her back. Not that she would tell Hal that, he was under enough stress to begin with. He was right. There was absolutely nothing funny about this situation, mostly because there wasn't a single fucking thing that she could do to help. She was powerless, hapless, completely devoid of mojo. All she could do was watch and wait and listen to the screams that would come. 'Stay in the car'. In all of her life, she never thought that she was the type of person who would have to 'stay in the car'.

When the two of them finally got to the door of the bus, she paused a moment before entering, drumming her fingers on the door handle. Evelyn bit her lip and turned back to face him. "Look, just be careful tonight, yeah? I don't like that I'm not there to watch your back."

"Please," he mumbled, leaning against the bus and trying to summon up as much swagger as possible. "The skitters can't touch this."

She glared at him. "Don't be flippant, Hal. Just keep yourself safe, because if you die, I will reanimate you so I can kick your ass."

"Well that hardly seems efficient." He looked at her and saw the pleading expression on her face. "Hey, don't worry. I'll be with Ben and Maggie and Dai. We can pull this off no problem. We got along just fine while you were away—it's not like we fell apart when you left. We could run a mission like this in our sleep."

"That's… good I guess."

Hal sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ugh. That came out wrong. All I'm trying to say—in the stupidest way possible—is that you don't have to worry." He narrowed his eyes at her and shot her a sly smile. "Anyway, Evey, it's no different than when you went out with Ben last night. Don't you think you're being a little bit hypocritical?"

"No," she said shortly, her eyes wide with an innocent expression covering her face. "I'm a much better shot than you are."

Hal laughed and rubbed his forehead in frustration. "Wow, Evey. Way to emasculate me before I go risk my—"

Before he finished she lifted her bound hands and lifted them up and over his head, pulling herself up into an awkward hug. Because her hands were tied, she couldn't really embrace him, so she really just ended up leaning her face on the rough fabric of his jacket.

"I'll be careful," he said more quietly.

His arms encircled her waist and pulled her against them, dragging her up to her toes. It felt warm and comforting, and for a second she forgot where she was. But then the plastic bit into the skin on her wrists and the pain jolted her back into the present. The two of them were just standing there as people walked by, packing up and preparing to leave, and it got awkward again.

Evelyn felt Hal lean his face into her shoulder and sigh deeply. "Are you smelling my hair?" she mumbled quietly.

"Okay," he said pulling her arms up and over his head again. "That's enough of that. I'm very busy and important, and I don't need to take any abuse from the likes of you."

"Oh, come on, Hal!" she shouted at his retreating figure. "There's no shame in it! Yours smells like lemons and he promise of childhood dreams!"

"Shut up!"

Evelyn grinned after him, but the smile faded as he got smaller and smaller and eventually disappeared. It was frustrating. These days, people were constantly leaving each other, and you never ever know for sure that you're going to see them. Every time someone leaves your sight, there has to be a goodbye, spoken or unspoken. And it was freaking exhausting.

Climbing into the medical bus for the second time that day, the atmosphere had changed significantly. It was less stagnant, more bustling. Anne was darting back and forth, stowing anything that wasn't bolted down in preparation for their departure. It took about forty-five seconds and a few awkward hellos for her to be tied up next to Tom, leaning against that godforsaken pole. Evelyn nudged her foot against the base of the pole. It wasn't all that solidly in place. A few solid kicks could loosen it. She snorted to herself. All that drama, and they couldn't even bother tying her up properly. Evelyn sighed and leaned her head against the pole, closing her eyes and taking a breath.

"I'm sorry this had to happen to you, too," Tom said quietly, making her open her eyes again. She looked at Tom, and he was just as wearied—if not more so—than she was. His hair was a mess, there was dirt smeared on his face, and his eyes were almost as messed up as hers were. And there was something else there too, a sort of emotional weariness. After looking over his shoulder, she could guess what it was. Matt was sitting at the back of the bus, pulled into a corner like he was trying to hide from something, to get as far away from it as possible. And the only thing that seemed to be there worth avoiding was her and Tom.

"It's nobody's fault, Tom," she said rolling her head against the pole so that she was facing him. "We both made our own beds, and now we have to lie in them."

Tom's face formed a weak smile. "You're assuming we have beds, Evey. Under the circumstances that's sort of a tall order, isn't it?"

Evelyn couldn't fight off the smile that formed on her face. She glanced over her shoulder at Matt, who looked away as soon as her eyes found him. There was a constricting feeling in her chest. Little Matt, adorable little Matt who she had fed Cheez Whiz and Marshmallow Fluff for dinner that one night didn't trust her any more. Hell, he didn't even trust Tom any more. That was another knife to the gut. She was getting so many of those these days, soon enough she would be emotionally eviscerated, drawn and quartered.

"He'll come around," she whispered, looking back to Tom. "Just give it a little time. All kids ever need is a little time. They're resilient. He'll probably end up better adjusted to everything that's going on than any of us will."

Tom shifted uncomfortably on his seat. "That's what I'm afraid of, Evey. He shouldn't have to deal with this kind of thing. He's just a kid. _You're_ just a kid."

She laughed lightly, earning a confused expression. "I haven't been a kid since I was thirteen, Tom. And as much as you want him to be, Matt's not a kid anymore either. Not in the normal sense, anyway."

Tom shook his head defiantly. "No. No, I don't accept that. It's important to hold on to what keeps us human, now more than ever."

"You're developing an awfully convenient narrative, professor," Evelyn returned quietly. "The way I see it, the way of humanity is that it adjusts. It adapts. Look back fifty years ago, a hundred years ago. What constituted 'childhood' was different then. It changed with the times, and it's got to change again. It's not going to be pretty, and we're not going to like it, but it's necessary. Matt is going to be a soldier. All of us are. It's just a matter of time before we all crawl into the trenches and have to wade through the blood and the muck. For us….just living is an act of war to them, so we'll never not be fighting. Each breath we take is a form of defiance."

Tom stared at her with that piercing expression of his. The one where he looked at you and you could swear that he had managed to crawl inside your head and understand you completely. And he looked sad as well. The tired kind of sad.

"You know I taught you how to tie your shoes."

Evelyn blinked at the random declaration. "Yeah, I know," she said, nodding. "I was there."

Tom sighed and leaned back on the shelves behind him. "It's just—I never expected that little girl with her frilly blue dress and pigtails to talk to me about things like this. Back then all you wanted to do was talk about Harry Potter and have me tell you stories. And now you're this," he said waving his hands at her. "Discussing the morality of war like someone who's come home from Vietnam or Iraq. I think I've finally realized that the little girl's gone, and I think I miss her."

"Yeah," Evelyn muttered, exhaling sharply. "It's a bit of a letdown, isn't it?"

"No," he said quickly. "Not at all. It's just that—you seem to _know_ this life now. Most of us are in denial, trying to hold on to that last little bit of what they had. But you—you really _see_ it. You don't try to hide from the ugly parts of it. You take it for what it is."

"You know me, Tom. I've always been practical. And I gave up on idealism a long time ago. I have no use for it anymore." She sighed and readjusted so that she was sitting next to him, leaning against those shelves. "Even before the invasion—the things I had to see in that hospital. Things that happened to me and to so many other kids. And then there were the parents, constantly holding out hope for a new procedure, a new miracle to sweep in and save the day. Sometimes there was a happy ending, but most of the time…..Eventually I learned that that kind of hope—that search for a miracle—could be more destructive than the initial problem. If you don't hope or wish like that—if you lower your expectations—then you're never disappointed. If I keep looking for some sort of happy ending in this crap heap of a world, I'll always come up short. I don't see the point in that sort of emotional self-torture."

Tom turned his head to look at her. "And what if something good actually does happen?"

"Well, then I guess I'll enjoy it that much more."

"Or you won't be able to recognize it." Evelyn's head twisted so that she could look at Tom. He was staring down at her with pity, like she had lost something important. "You might be right," he said turning to look at Matt. "We might all be destined for the muck. But not him. And not yet."

Evelyn shot him a quick smile. "Good."

The two of them stopped talking, and Evelyn felt her eyelids begin to droop. The days of sleeplessness had finally caught up to her, and the way it hit her, it felt like she was standing under a waterfall. Eventually her head made its way to Tom's shoulder, and in her delirium it felt like the softest pillow she had ever encountered.

"Hey, Tom?" she mumbled almost incoherently.

"What is it, Evey?"

She let out a huge yawn before continuing. "I already knew how to tie my shoes. I learnt it from watching the other kids. I just wanted someone to teach me, and I'm glad it was you."

And after that, she was asleep. She was finally asleep. It was a deep, dark, dreamless sleep that afforded her the rest she so desperately needed. Unfortunately it wouldn't last that long.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

CRASH!

Evelyn was suddenly jolted into consciousness as she was violently thrown against the ground, her head making a sickening crack as it slammed into the ground. What the hell was that noise? What was going on? Where was she? She blinked rapidly until her blurry vision came into crystal clear focus. She was on the bus, and for some reason it was tilted. She could hear the revving of the engine and squealing of a tire circling over and over again, but they weren't moving.

"Tom!" she called out in a harsh whisper. Something about the dark always made her feel like she had to whisper. "Tom! What's going on?"

"Were stuck," he whispered back. "The supports on the bridge didn't hold."

That situation was bad enough to begin with, but all the sudden she heard that sound, the one she had nightmares about. Whir, clank. Whir, clank. And then there was Weaver's voice, ringing out above everything else. "Non-essential personnel dismissed! Over the bridge on foot, now!"

Shit.

All of the sudden there was an explosion of gunfire. She could make out the sounds of the 50-cal and a couple of AKs. It wasn't nearly enough to hold off the column of mechs that was approaching. And the bus wasn't moving.

"Tom," she said turning to him with an expression of wide-eyed fear, "Tom we need to help them."

"I know, I know," he muttered anxiously. He turned to his son, who was still eyeing him with suspicion. "Matt, I need you to cut us loose. Do you have your pocket knife on you?"

The young boy shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "But you just said you might—"

"I know what I just said, but I need you to do this. Come on, you can do it."

Matt looked between them both with scared, suspicious eyes.

Weaver's head popped in the front of the bus, pleading with Anne to run, but she refused.

"Please, Matt," Tom entreated. "We need to help them. Just cut us loose."

Matt slowly pulled out his pocket knife, just staring at it and running his fingers over the blade like the decision he was about to make was life and death. Which Evelyn honestly found rather annoying because the situation outside of the bus actually was life and death. But then he set his small mouth in a firm line in a way that reminded her a lot of Tom. He just gave a single nod and started cutting at the restraints. When they were finally free, Tom kissed him on the forehead and Evelyn gave him a quick hug before barreling out the bus.

Evelyn didn't know where it was that Tom, went, but she made a beeline straight to the back of the bus where Weaver, Anthony, and two others were doing their level best to dislodge it from the caved in portion of the bridge. Nobody seemed to notice her joining them. The sounds of gunshots and the muzzle flashes were so violent they could probably trigger seizures.

Pressing herself against the side of the bus, Evelyn could feel that they weren't making any progress. The bus was just lurching a few inches forward and a few inches back. Evelyn glanced up at the rearview mirror of the car. She could see Anne's panicked face. It looked like the woman was expecting to die.

Her heart was pounding, she could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins—this was the perfect time to test the theory. And even if the results terrified her, she would at least have the relief of knowing that she saved a few lives in the process. Evelyn reached down, curling her fingers under the base of the bumper near the wheel, and she pulled up hard.

At first there was nothing. At first the bus just sat there, as big a target as ever, but then something changed. Evelyn felt something shift. She let go and felt the bus fall down a little. It couldn't have been more than an inch, but it was something. Returning her fingers to the base of the bus, she lifted with all her strength. She could feel the tendons in her neck pushing out against her skin and her arms were aching with the strain. Letting out a primal scream, she pulled as hard as she could, and the bus lifted. With the direction afforded by the men pushing at the back, it lurched forward and began moving down the rest of the bridge. Evelyn collapsed on her back, panting heavily.

For a second she thought it was over, but it wasn't. The rest of them were running after the bus, but as she turned to face the edge of the bridge, she saw one lone figure standing at the 50-cal. She didn't even have to get a good look at him. She knew it was Tom.

Throwing herself to her feet, Evelyn sprinted towards him, pausing only to grab an AK that lay abandoned on the ground. She ran forwards firing. "Tom!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, "Tom! We've got to go."

She skidded to a halt and froze at what she saw. A solid line of mechs and skitters approaching. After a moment's hesitation, she ducked down started firing. Within a few seconds, four or five skitters had fallen, but the mechs showed no sign of stopping.

"You've got to leave," a wheezing voice called out. She looked to her left to see three bodies on the other side of the bridge, all fallen behind a barricade. One of them was still moving. "You need to go now," the man—Boon—said weakly. "They're going to blow the bridge."

Evelyn blinked down at him. "Tom, they're blowing the bridge!" she shouted out. "Time to move!"

"Right behind you!" his voice called out.

Ducking low to the ground, she ran quickly through the line of fire to reach the other barricade, firing as she went. Collapsing to the ground, she quickly threw her gun over her shoulder.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Boon asked weakly.

Evelyn grabbed his arm and yanked it over her shoulder. "Ever heard the phrase 'leave no man behind'? That's what the fuck I'm doing."

"I'm hit. I can't—"

"Save it," she muttered, hauling him to his feet and dragging him along with her.

She sprinted down the length of the bridge as fast as she could. There was a line of people on the other end waving her forward. She thought it was just for her until she heard someone—Anne—shout out the name 'Tom'. Evelyn's head jerked violently so she could look over her shoulder. Tom was still at the other end of the bridge. He was only just then jumping away from the 50-cal. The skitters were so close to him. It looked like they were going to overtake him, and Evelyn could help. She couldn't even watch. She just had to keep running. She just kept running and running until there was a loud explosion and she and Boon were thrown forward, hitting the ground.

Evelyn was dazed. She couldn't hear anything. It was like those scenes in war movies where a bomb goes off, and then every sounds distant, like the noise is coming through water. Then there was the sensation of being dragged, and she looked up and saw Tector pulling her towards the line of people. Somebody else, Anthony maybe, was dragging Boon.

After a few hazy minutes she found herself pushed up against the side of a truck with a light being shone in her eyes. Blinking, her eyes focused on Lourdes who was standing over her with a flashlight. Maggie walked up behind her. "How's she doing?" she asked Lourdes.

"She doesn't have a concussion," she heard Lourdes telling Maggie. "She'll be fine, she's just in a bit of shock. There's nothing more than a few bruises and scrapes."

Maggie walked forwards and knelt down in front of her. "How are you feeling, chickadee?" she asked, placing a comforting hand on Evelyn's knee.

Evelyn shook her head and drove her hands into her hair, trying to wake herself up. "How's Boon doing?" she asked in a dazed voice. "Is he going to be okay?"

"The doc's seeing to him right now. He'll pull through. Full recovery."

"Good. That's good," she said, nodding slowly and looking at her feet which were splayed out in front of her.

"We found a place to go," Maggie continued. "There's an air strip a few miles out that's clear. Big, lots of space. It's even got a fence, and we have some good vantage points from the control towers to keep watch. Weaver thinks we'll be good there."

"What about Tom? Where is he?" Maggie was quiet, and her silence caused a wave of fear to crash through her body. "Maggie," she said looking back up at her friend, "where's Tom?"

Maggie's head sagged slightly before she answered. "The bombs went off before he could make it across the bridge."

"No," Evelyn insisted, her voice cracking slightly and shaking her head violently. "No, no—"

"He's gone—"

"NO!" she screamed, pushing herself to her feet and swaying slightly. "Where's Hal. I need to find him."

"Evelyn," Maggie said in a soothing voice, "you need to sit down." She place a hand on her shoulder and pushed down.

Evelyn roughly pushed away Maggie's hand and brushed past her. "I'm finding Hal."

Evelyn stumbled forwards and began weaving through the crowds of people. Her balance was still off after that explosion, but she refused to stop moving. All of the sudden she felt someone grab her arm and she whirled around to see Maggie following her.

"Your stubborn ass is going to get itself killed if you keep going like this," she muttered angrily. "Come with me." She dragged one of Evelyn's arms over her shoulder and started walking her in the right direction. "Death by trampling," Maggie muttered bitterly. "And after the fucking battle too. What a fucking joke."

As they made there way to wherever it was that Maggie was taking her, Evelyn heard loud, angry shouts shatter the still silence of the night air. A few yards away she saw Hal lunging at Pope, Dai holding him back.

"You saw a chance to frag him and you took it! You wanted them both dead! You son of a bitch!"

Evelyn felt tears pricking at her eyes. She opened and closed her mouth trying to find something—anything—that would make this all okay. Something that would make it all go away. But instead she just watched dumbly as Hal threw himself at Pope over and over again. The tears filled her eyes and made everything go blurry, but she refused to let them fall, because if she started crying that meant it was real. So she just stood there with watery eyes, until something else caught her attention, something behind the action on the river bank. And suddenly she did have something to say—something that _would_ make it all go away.

"Tom?"

Nobody else seemed to have noticed until Ben cocked his gun and pointed it at the reeds. "Who's there?"

"Don't shoot, Ben!" said a tired, but slightly amused voice. "Once is enough I think."

And then the whole of the Mason crew ran down the riverbank, throwing themselves at a sopping wet Tom Mason. Evelyn let herself cry now, because now they were tears of joy—and let's face it, the world could always use more of those.

"Tom Mason," Anne said stepping forward, "I'm getting damn tired of losing you. I'm going to tie a cowbell around your neck." She threw her arms around Tom's neck and pulled him in for a tight hug. Evelyn considered wolf-whistling and telling them to get a room, but that probably would have made it awkward.

Maggie withdrew from Evelyn, taking a few hesitant steps back to see if she could stand on their own. Evelyn gave her a determined nod, indicating that she was alright before stepping forward towards the group.

When Tom saw her, he smiled widely and pulled her into a tight hug as well. "We seemed determined to walk along the edge of the knife don't we?"

Evelyn let out a wheezing laugh and nodded into his shoulder. "But we do it so well, don't we?"

When Evelyn backed away from Tom, she stumbled a bit and collided with something solid behind her. She looked up to see Hal wearing a wide, happy grin where not a few minutes ago there was look of pure rage. He let out a relieved laugh and put his arm around her shoulders again, holding on tight to make sure that she was steady.

"You and my dad really need to drop this habit."

She looked up at him in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about this whole 'almost dying' thing," he said, pulling her in tighter. "I'm getting really fucking tired of it. One day you're getting shot, the next you're getting blown up. It's like an emotional yo-yo or something."

Evelyn let out a loud snort. "Are you seriously talking to me about 'feelings'? I thought that was a taboo subject for you big manly men."

"Not always," he said through a self-assured smirk, looking down at her. Evelyn opened her mouth to say—well she really didn't know what she was going to say, so it was fortunate that Weaver cut her off.

"Let's get it in gear! I want to get to that airport before daylight!"

"Come on," Hal said pulling her along. "You're swaying like a sorority chick after one too many Long Island ice teas. Let's get you to a car."

One by one the engines of the cars and the bikes and the buses revved to life. In that moment, everything felt like it would be okay. There were losses and there was grief, but when Tom climbed out of that river it felt like they had all been given a reprieve. She didn't know how long it would last, but for now she decided to just go with it.

**So there's that chapter. Sorry it took so long, but I kind of lost a little steam in writing it. Maybe it's this episode, I've been writing it for so long. Maybe I'll feel a little rejuvenated moving on to episode 3. Hopefully it came out okay. I don't know. I think it's because this episode has so much action going on and I had to use so much of the dialogue, it felt a little hackneyed when I wrote it. I tried to make it seem original, but…. Oh, well. I hope you liked it.**

**Please review! Reviews kill skitters and give the Overlords headaches.**


	14. Sad Little King on a Sad Little Hill

**Thank you to everybody for reading/following/favoriting.**

**A big thank you to Niamh O'Mahoney, LucyRider17, and MySoxRockXD for reviewing. You guys are the best!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not have and scruffy little beard. Therefore I am not Steven Spielberg and do not own 'Falling Skies'. Any familiar dialogue is taken from the show.**

**Photos of OCs, soundtracks, are on my profile.**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I figured I should let you all know, the Hal/Evey storyline is going to follow the same timeframe as the Hal/Maggie one because of how I need to work Karen's reappearance into the story. Since I stick with the story, I might have to do a few swap outs with the characters (ie Hal and Evey in the car in 2x05 instead of Hal and Maggie). I hope you don't mind too much. In the meantime I'm going to heighten the romantic tension when I get to 2x04 by making a bit of a love triangle. *****Some misunderstood what I meant here, I was really just referring to some Hal jealousy with regards to a new OC I'll introduce, Evey never stops liking him specifically. There's never any threat to my pairing, I just thought a little bit of jealous Hal (when there's not actually anything to be jealous about) would advance their relationship some******. Eps 2x02 and 2x03 are all action and intrigue, so there might not be the chance for a huge amount of romance mixed in there.**

**Massive AN. Sorry.**

**It's about 3 am for me now, but I just couldn't stop writing. Please forgive any grammatical errors and the like.  
**

Chapter 13 – Sad Little King on a Sad Little Hill

It had been over a week since what happened on that bridge, and Evelyn was finding that she was actually enjoying the time they spent in that airplane hanger. For the first time in such a long time, she had a roof—an actual, physical roof—over her head. There were certainly flaws—it was drafty, cold, and the roof leaked in several places—but she really had no room to complain. It was miles better than anything she had seen in months. For so long all that there had been to separate her from the elements was a flimsy piece of fabric. There was food, there was company, they were in a secured location. Yep, things were going pretty well, which is why she had the distinct feeling that something was going to go very, very wrong very, very soon. After all, that's usually the way her luck went.

Evelyn opened her eyes and stared up at the sagging fabric of the tent above her. She had been lying in that cot for what felt like hours, but she couldn't fall asleep. She rolled over and stared at Maggie who, as usual, was fast asleep and snoring lightly. Evelyn felt the corners of her lips quirk upwards a little. Maggie had this uncanny ability to fall asleep anywhere and at any time. It used to be that Evelyn could do the same, but lately the dreams plaguing her had gotten stranger and stranger, bringing her to the point that she almost didn't want to sleep.

Her dreams seemed to be undergoing some strange sort of evolution. The ones that she had had on he road with Tom, the ones where she had been hurting the people she cared about, those were long gone. Then those had given way to some seriously bizarre, surreal ones that made her question her own sanity. Now, though, it was mostly the one recurring dream. It always happened the exact same. She was sitting on a fallen log in the middle of the forest. It was warm and there were crickets chirping and the stars were shining in the sky. It was always so peaceful. And then—every time—there was that clicking noise in the darkness followed by the sound of rustling leaves as the red-eyed skitter emerged and came to sit next to her. She never ran, because she was never scared. She had the unnerving feeling that it was trying to make her understand something. What scared her the most was that, even after she had woken up, she really, really wanted to understand.

Sitting up, Evelyn brought her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them like a small child trying to make themselves as small and inconspicuous as possible. She could hear the busy noises of the people outside. It was about a half hour before midnight, but there was never a shortage of things to do. Evelyn knew she wasn't going to get any sleep. She had been wishing for a roof over her head, and as soon as she had gotten one she just really wanted to get out. She rolled out of bed and pulled her boots on before her feet had to touch the cold floor. Grabbing her jacket, she pulled it on and brushed out of the tent.

Shoving her hands as deep into her pockets as they could possibly go, she hunched her shoulders and marched along the outskirts of the tents, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. She paused for a moment at the Mason's tent, pulling aside the tent flap and peeking in through the small crack. Only two of the four were there. Tom was probably off somewhere communing with Weaver and Ben—Ben had been disappearing into the night a lot lately. She was really starting to worry about him. Not about his personal safety, he was more than capable of taking care of himself, but the way he went after the skitters—the joy he took out of it—it was more than a little bit unsettling.

Then there were the other two Masons, the ones who were asleep. Matt was clutching a gun like it was his old teddy bear, Mr. Huggles, and Hal was tossing and turning. Hal. Things were really, really weird between the two of them. Both of them remembered what had happened before she left, but they never talked about it—not since that first night. Sometimes when he looked at her, she could have sworn that he was thinking about the kiss. He always really looked like he wanted to say something, but he never did. So she didn't either. It was probably for the best tht they didn't go there. To open that door only to have to close it again—it would hurt too much. But watching him toss and turn like that, she really wanted to go up to him, sit on the edge of his bed, and run her hands through his hair in the most comforting way possible and tell him everything would be okay, but that seemed to breach their unspoken understanding. Plus it would have been really, really creepy.

Sighing, she walked away, letting the tent flap close behind her. Let him sleep. He needed it. Instead of doing the smart thing and heading back to the tent to get some rest herself, she made her way out of the hangar and through the rows of cars until she reached the edge. She stared out at the tarmac in front of her. It looked oddly clean and peaceful, and that felt wrong. Evelyn wrapped her arms around her waist, pulling her jacket tight around her, leaning against the truck.

Evelyn could still hear the busy noises coming from the hangar, but after a few moments she heard some footsteps much, much closer. She ignored it, hoping that whoever it was would go away. She really wanted to be alone right now. But whoever it was, they weren't going to let her be. In fact, they stopped right next to her. Turning to look over her shoulder she saw long, greasy hair and a scraggly beard. She didn't even have a chance to get out a single word before a sweet-smelling rag was forced in her face and a rough sack was forced over her head. And then she saw nothing.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

When Evelyn regained consciousness again, it took her a while to realize it. Wherever she was, it was so dark that even with her newly enhanced visual capacity she couldn't see a damn thing. She felt blindly around her and her fingertips came into contact with cold metal and rivets. She was in the back of a truck. "Fuck my life," she muttered under her breath, feeling around for the latch that would grant her freedom.

"Don't bother," a smug drawl came from the back corner of the truck. "It's locked from the outside. And don't try screamin' neither. There isn't anyone close enough to hear you."

Evelyn turned towards the sound in time to see a flashlight switch on, revealing Pope and his infuriating smirk and pointing a gun at her . It was coming back to her now, those moments just before she lost consciousness. The sickly sweet smell and the unhygienic bastard associated with it. She narrowed her eyes, fixing Pope under her stern glare. "Why the fuck were you sitting in the dark, Pope?" she spat angrily. "Is your ego really so big that you have to think ahead and construct a dramatic for every minute circumstance?"

He just laughed lightly. "You know, Hot Lips, I have to say I did miss that snarky mouth of yours. Unfortunately it won't be around for all that much longer."

"I figured as much," she said, pulling herself into a tight ball as far away from him as possible. "I've been expecting this for a while now. In fact, I'm surprised it took you this long to get around to it."

"Well, in case you haven't noticed we're in a little bit of a war here," he said sarcastically, waving the flashlight about. "We've been a little occupied. Got to prioritize and all that."

"So how long do I have before I die?" she asked in a casual voice. It wasn't even exactly a front. She was just so damn tired of fighting the people as well as the skitters. At this point she was ready to just roll the dice and let the chips fall where they may. Great. Now she was mixing metaphors.

To her surprise she actually saw a hint of regret work its way into Pope's expression. "Listen, Red—"

"Evelyn," she said sharply, cutting him off. "If you're going to kill me at least do me the courtesy of using my actual name."

Pope looked at her for a minute and nodded. "Alright, Evelyn. For what it's worth I'm sorry it had to go down like this. If I had any other options—"

Evelyn let out a bark of hysterical laughter. "That's complete bullshit, and you know it. You're enjoying this."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you won, Pope!" she said, throwing her arms wide. "That's all you've ever wanted, isn't it? To be right? To show the other guy up?" Evelyn shook her head, a humorless smile appearing on her face. "And you know how I know that? Because as little as either one of us want to admit it, we've got a lot in common. If I grew up 'on the other side of the tracks' or whatever the hell you want to call it, I might have even ended up being you."

Pope let out a derisive snort of laughter. "Ms. Piano-playing ballerina thinks she has something in common with me? How do you figure that?"

"Because you're smart and you're bitter. That's something I'm familiar enough with, but I got to got to college. I got those opportunities. But you—you spent your entire life watching the trust-fund idiots go and get there educations while you got left behind, even when you were so much smarter than all of them. And there wasn't a fucking thing you could do about it. Those idiots moved past you, they looked down on you, even though you _knew_ you were better than them."

She paused for Pope to say something, but he just stared at her with an odd expression on his face. She had hit a nerve—that much was obvious. Usually she would feel bad about that kind of thing, but seeing as he was probably going to shoot her in the head in about an hour, she wasn't harboring much sympathy. So instead of backing off like she would have typically done, she decided to drive the knife in harder.

"I'm right, aren't I?" she pressed on, leaning in and looking at him with what she knew was a cold, menacing smile. "Maggie told me that you had a brother—a sadistic son of a bitch who wasn't all that bright. She was a bit less polite in her phrasing, of course, seeing as he raped her all those times. I bet he was invaluable to you, though. All that loyalty, obedience, and blind acceptance of every fucking word you said. He was like your pit bull. And then there was that gang you had in the beginning of the invasion. You were a pig in muck, running them about and giving them orders. A sad little king on a sad little hill. That's why you hate Tom so much, isn't it? Even before he climbed off that ship. It's because he's got the credentials and the respect that you think _you _deserve. And now—now you've beaten him, you've beaten Weaver. Hell, you've beaten me, too. And that's what gives you the warm and fuzzies. It's the fact that you got to be the one who made the decisions. The fact that you're dealing with something as heavy as life and death, that's just the cherry on top of the sundae that is your life. Sure part of you is sorry, but a bigger part of you is really fucking excited."

Pope stared at her for a few moments. The light from the flashlight reflected in his eyes, giving him an almost demonic appearance. She was expecting him to talk, to threaten, to wave his gun in her face, but instead he just sat there, staring at her with an inscrutable expression. Eventually he let out a bitter laugh. "You really are a piece of work, aren't you?" he growled, taking a swig out of the flask he always kept in his breast pocket.

"Doesn't make me wrong," she said, glowering at him. "And if I'm not wrong—if even part of what I said is true—guess which one of us is the bigger piece of work."

Pope laughed and tossed her his flask. "You know, Red," he said, his voice regaining its usual swagger, "if circumstances were different, you and me and the rest of my crew—we could have wreaked a lot of havoc together. It's too bad you're damaged goods."

Evelyn ignored the flask that had fallen at her feet and continued staring directly at him. "You didn't answer my question. How long do I have to live?"

His mouth twisted into a sinister smile. "Until I say otherwise. We're just waiting on the Professor. He's a little bit harder to access than you, sticking around with the captain and Dr. Quinn. But once he gets here, the lot of us are going on a field trip."

As if on cue, there was a loud banging noise as someone slammed there hand against the side of the truck.

"Well, Red," Pope said, cocking his gun and aiming it at her head, "they're singing our song."

The both of them stood up and Evelyn moved towards the door with her hands on her head. There was the sound of a lock being unlatched and then the back of the truck rolled open to reveal Tector, Crazy Lee, and Lyle standing around another figure with a bag over its head. It was Tom. Who else would it be?

When Evelyn made eye contact with Tector, she let out a bitter laugh. She had always been on friendly terms with him. At least he had the decency to look ashamed of himself. Pope nudged her in the back with the muzzle of his gun, and she hopped to the ground and held her hands out to be bound. There really was no avoiding the situation, so there wasn't any point in making it more difficult. But what she did do was make sure she was looking Tector straight in the eye when he pulled that rough burlap sack back over her head.

Soon enough there was a hand on her shoulder and a gun forced to her back and she was being marched off like a prisoner of war on their way to their education. No. There was no 'like' about it. That's exactly what was happening to her.

"You sure about this, boss?" she head Tector whisper from somewhere behind her. "The two of them—they've done a lot of good for us."

"That was before," Pope's low voice responded. "But once they got on that ship, that shit might as well have never happened."

"She saved Boon, though," Tector continued. "And Tom saved the bridge."

"Get your fucking head in the game, Tector," she heard Pope growl. "This isn't about what they've done, it's about what they might do."

The rest of the journey was accomplished in relative silence. There was some intermittent banter, but for the most part everyone decided to keep quiet. After about a half-hour of walking, somebody kicked her in the back of her legs, causing her to crumple to her knees. Somebody ripped the bag off her head and she found herself kneeling in the mud next to Tom. His eyes widened when he saw her. Apparently he hadn't realized they'd taken her too. She hadn't said a word since they dragged her out of that truck.

"Sorry for the theatrics," Pope said, fondling his gun.

"What's this all about?" Tom asked in a mildly desperate voice.

Evelyn snorted. Tom couldn't have been that oblivious. He had to have seen it coming. This face-off...it was inevitable, It had been in the works ever since Tom got off that table after Ben shot him. Evelyn could still remember the expression on Pope's face that first time she saw him. Ever since that moment, she had known that, sooner or later, it would come to this. But Tom hadn't seen it. Maybe it was his idealism that made him so naïve. "Come on, Tom," she muttered, still staring directly at Pope. "You had to know this was going to happen."

"She's right, Professor," Pope said, taking a few steps towards them. "I don't know what your alien friends did to you, but I for one and not waiting to find out. Now since we go way back, I'm going to give you the chance to do the honorable thing and walk away."

Evelyn couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Please, Pope," she mumbled, her voice thick with derision. "Don't flatter yourself with the idea of being merciful. If you throw us out there, we're as good as dead anyway."

"You don't give yourself enough credit, Red. I'm sure you'll manage out there in the big, bad world. You're scrappy."

She just glowered up at him, her thoughts running back to Hal and Matt and Maggie and everyone else she cared about—about what life would be like if she had to give them all up. "That's not the kind of dead I was talking about."

"So that's it," Tom finally said. "Just like that you expect me—expect us—to walk away from the 2nd Mass? And what? Leave my boys in your care?"

"Your boys will be looked after as if they were my own," Pope said, gesturing to himself.

"Meaning what?" Evelyn spat. "That you'll be separated from them by four states and a restraining order?"

"I'll take care of them," he said in a firm voice. "Even the spiky one. Unless, that is, he goes full skitter and then all bets are off."

Tom let out a skeptical snort. "You really think that you're going to get away with this?"

Pope's face was covered by an unsettling smile and he leaned in close. "Oh, I really think I will get away with this, Professor. You might have Weaver in your pocket, but you'd be surprised how many people back at camp are creeped out over your triumphant return. Not so many people will miss you as you might think. And you," he said turning to Evelyn, "other than Maggie, Professor X, and the Mason clan, I don't think anybody will be missing out on your illustrious company."

Evelyn didn't want to appear weak, but Pope's harsh words made her blink. They stung. Mostly because she knew they were true. There weren't many who would miss her if she left, not many to mourn her. Seeing that his words had smarted, Pope's smile grew wider. Evelyn wanted to hate him for it, but after the choice words she had thrown at him earlier, she could hardly justify it. He was right. She had very little with the 2nd Mass, but over the past few weeks back with all of them, she had realized how much that little bit meant to her. She had no intention of leaving it or living without it.

Pope's face was uncomfortably close to hers. Evelyn could feel his hot breath on her face. It smelled like bourbon and cigarettes and death. "Do us all a favor and start walking."

She didn't know why, but Evelyn smiled. "Just shoot me."

Pope blinked in shock. Of all the responses—leaving, fighting back, verbal sparring—he didn't seem to have expected that one. "What?"

"Take your gun, and shoot me in the head." She ignored Tom's shocked expression and kept talking. "I'm serious. When I'm with the 2nd Mass I can actually make a difference in this fight, but if I leave, there's really no point for me, is there? What have I got? All I can do is amble around the forest while the tumor eats up my brain and I start drooling and pissing myself and eventually die in a hole as a massive, incontinent mess." There was a general uncomfortable murmur that washed through the ranks of the berserkers at that statement. She looked at each of them. They seemed hesitant before, but now, with her asking them to end her life rather than make her leave, they were shying away. Fucking cowards. They were all talk. It didn't matter what they were doing until they were confronted with the actual possibility of getting blood on their hands.

"You think I'm kidding?" she asked, slowly getting to her feet. "Outside the 2nd Mass, there's no point in me existing. Out there I'm a grain of sand in the fucking Sahara desert. I'm useless, hapless, hopeless. It'll be a slow and painful life for me out there, so put a bullet in my skull and give me a quick death." Pope just stood there, his mouth gaping a little bit. "No?" She turned away from him to face the rest of the group, spreading her arms wide. "How about one of you? Crazy Lee? Tector? Anyone? Call it a mercy-killing. Just end it already! Or do none of you have the stones to do it?"

"Shut the FUCK up!" Pope screamed, shoving her back hard. He grabbed Tom by the jacket and hauled him to his feet and shoved him backwards. "I said MOVE!"

All of the sudden a shot rang out, causing everyone to flinch. For a second Evelyn thought that one of them had actually summoned up the courage to shoot her, but there was no pain. There was no hot bullet tearing through her flesh. Instead she saw Pope stumbling as he was showered with dirt from where the bullet connected with the ground. And then, out of nowhere, Ben appeared.

"Drop your weapons!" Ben shouted, grabbing Pope from behind and holding a knife to his neck. "I said drop them!" Another shot hit the ground, inches from Pope's feet. "He won't miss next time!"

As grateful as Evelyn was to Ben for sweeping in and being the cavalry, she couldn't help but be unnerved by how much he seemed to be _enjoying_ the situation. She was especially disturbed by how familiar that knife seemed to him. Knives were personal. When you kill something with a knife, you have to stay close. And the idea that Ben liked to be close to the things he was killing was a disturbing one. One by one, each of the beserkers dropped their guns and she and Tom scrambled about, gathering them up.

There was a slight rustling noise as a figure appeared, emerging from the brush. "Hey there, Evey. Professor Mason." Jimmy came out of the tall grass with his gun poised to shoot. He had that same smile Ben did, like the two of them were in the middle of a really good game of Halo.

"What are the two of you doing out here?" Tom demanded, looking between the two young boys.

"We were just on our way back from patrol," Ben said simply. The lie rolled off his tongue so easily that Tom didn't even seem to notice it.

"You are a long way from the outer perimeter," Pope spat angrily.

"And you're not exactly in the position to be mouthing off any more," Evelyn returned, pointing the gun at his head. She had no intention of shooting him or any of them, but after that ordeal, threatening him felt really fucking good. Tom seemed even less forgiving than her. He pistol-whipped Pope, sending him crashing to the ground. "Jimmy," he said breathlessly, "grab their rifles. We're taking them back to camp."

"What about them?" he asked, waving at the disarmed besekers.

Tom bit his lip, but answered steadily. "That's for Weaver to decide."

Then the four of them began ushering the beserkers back to the camp, like they were driving cattle. Tom was uncharacteristically quiet for most of the journey. Evelyn caught him glancing at her a few times, and he would look away quickly whenever they made eye contact. Eventually he managed to voice his thoughts. "You knew they were bluffing, right?" he asked almost frantically. "When you told them to kill you, you knew they wouldn't do it."

Evelyn let out a sad sigh and looked him straight in the eye. "No. No, I didn't."

**So there's chapter 13. I hope you liked it. I know there's not really any Hal here, but I really wanted Evey to out-Pope Pope again, so that's kind of why I set it up.**

**There will be more Hal in the next chapter, but I hope you liked this one!**

**Please review. Pretty please.**

**PS, the 'sad little king on a sad little hill' comes from Firefly, but I felt like it fit so well for this chapter I just had to use it.**


	15. Dig a Hole, Fill It Up

**Hey, guys. Sorry it took me so long, but I've been feeling sick and it's been sapping my creative juices. Also, I kind of felt like I kind of wrote myself into a hole in the last one. I've been taking the story kind of dark lately, so I wanted Evelyn to hit rock bottom so that she could move up and out of it again.**

**Thank you to everybody for reading/following/favoriting.**

**A big thank you to Niamh O'Mahoney, LucyRider17, MoonlitSorrows, ZazubasGirl, MySoxRockXD, and Druid Archer for reviewing. You guys are the best!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not have and scruffy little beard. Therefore I am not Steven Spielberg and do not own 'Falling Skies'. Any familiar dialogue is taken from the show.**

**Photos of OCs, soundtracks, are on my profile.**

**Druid Archer: I'm glad you liked the 'Firefly' line! I just felt like it was something Evey would say talking to Pope.**

**MySoxRockXD: I'm glad you enjoyed it, because I sure as hell had a lot of fun writing it. I was thinking about the two of them and found that, weirdly enough, they are kind of similar. I really like writing the back-and-forth there because they both actually enjoy eviscerating each other's lives.**

**LucyRider17: Thanks for the advice!**

**MoonlitSorrows: No love triangle! Don't worry! I misspoke, really. I'm just going to introduce some jealousy to bring the romantic tension to a head.**

**Niamh O'Mahoney: I'm glad you liked it. She did go off the rails a bit, didn't she? She has been seriously overwhelmed and plagued by self-doubt and the second she had really decided to stay Pope went and kidnapped her….yikes! Hitting rock bottom will let her progress, though!**

**Now to the story!**

Chapter 14 – Dig a Hole, Fill it Up

Evelyn was feeling incredibly uncomfortable. Hal was standing somewhere behind her, completely out of her plane of vision, but she could feel his eyes on her, boring into the back of her skull. It wasn't the first time she had caught him looking at her or felt his eyes on her. Sometimes it would be subtle—he would check up on her all the time, especially since he found out about the tumor. It was freakishly annoying actually. It felt like he was waiting for her to fall to pieces or some shit like that. Other times it was clumsier. In fact, she fairly certain that she had found him checking her out a few times, though she wasn't sure what he could possibly get a decent look at under all of those layers of flannel and denim. It was entertaining, though. Those two or three times were the closest she'd ever seen Hal to blushing, and that was definitely a mental picture that she was taking to her grave. And she did _not_ blush in response. Evelyn would always remain adamant on that point.

This time it was different, though. This time she knew Hal wasn't blushing. Evelyn slowly turned her head to face him. When his eyes caught hers, there was a dark look about them, caught somewhere between pain, anger, and worry. Usually when she caught him staring at her he would glance away, embarrassed, but this time he kept staring at her, and she was the one forced to break eye contact.

Hal knew. That had to be the reason he had suddenly gained such an interest in the back of her head. She had hoped that Tom wouldn't say anything about her little outburst when Pope took the two of them. When the lot of them had been ushered into Weaver's tent for the debriefing, Tom had pulled Hal back for a moment. Evelyn had already taken her seat inside the tent, but she could still hear the hushed whispers on the other side of the fabric. She had her new-found capabilities for that.

Self destruction. Those two words had been mentioned, but it was bullshit. There was a difference between what she had done—what she had said—and self destruction. In her mind it was more like self-preservation. Tom was so freaking sensitive, always prone to overreaction when it came to the people he cared about. He always needed to fix something, and in this case that something was her. What she has said was perfectly clear, there was no confusion, and if it came to it, Evelyn was sure that Tom would have agreed with her. There was no life outside of the 2nd Mass. Not for her anyway. That was what she had meant when Pope had her on her knees with a gun to her head. That she wouldn't leave. No matter what. As long as there was a place for her, nothing could make her leave.

But he hadn't understood, and now Hal was freaking out. It was one of the things that annoyed her most about him, the rapidity with which he would establish his opinion. And he would do it before having all the information in. Evelyn took another quick glance back at him. There was definitely going to be a discussion, and it wasn't going to be one that she much cared to have. But it had to happen.

So instead of dwelling on the inevitable, Evelyn turned to face Weaver. That was the good thing about living in a post-apocalyptic alien invasion hellscape. If you didn't want to think about one problem, there were plenty of other ones lining up and waiting to distract you.

Weaver was pacing back and forth so much, Evelyn felt like he was digging himself a trench in that dirt. When she, Tom, Ben, and Jimmy had arrived, ushering in the band of traitorous miscreants and locked them in the back of that bus the look on his face—to say that he was disappointed was an understatement. As a leader, his pride was the loyalty he inspired in his men, and to have his authority so flagrantly ignored….Evelyn could see that it hurt. He was questioning his men, he was questioning himself, and the person forced to bear the brunt of that insecurity was Anthony. The moment he pushed his way into that tent flap the floodgates opened.

"You didn't know anything about this, Anthony?" Weaver demanded roughly, staring at the soldier with an intensity that could probably cause the man to spontaneously combust.

Anthony stood there at attention, feet set apart, hands clasped behind his back, and trying to look every inch the loyal soldier that Evelyn didn't doubt that he was. "No, sir," he insisted earnestly.

"There's no use chasing that line of thought, Captain," Evelyn muttered, picking at her fingers. "We both know that it's not going anywhere."

Weaver pressed lips together in a thin line and leveled her with a patronizing stare. "I don't need you to tell me my business. This regiment is under my command, and unless there's been a mutiny I'm not aware of, I will conduct my affairs as I see fit."

Suitably chastened, Evelyn nodded slightly and stared at the floor. Weaver turned back to Anthony, who shifted on his feet under the weight of the steely stare. "Look, Captain, Pope was smart enough to keep me out of the loop. He knew I wouldn't let it happen. Captain, come on—"

"Look, this isn't the problem," Hal said, stepping forward so that he was standing next to Evelyn. "I think Pope and the Berserkers have outlived their usefulness."

"I agree," Weaver growled. His voice was dripping with anger and hostility. "They're out of control. When we move out to the Catskills, we leave them all behind."

Evelyn furrowed her eyebrows. Weaver was being rash. He was letting his anger—his resentment—dictate his decision. This wasn't the kind of decision you make in the heat of the moment, there are factors that needed to be taken into account. "Now, hold on a second," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "All due respect and everything, but this isn't exactly the time to make any sweeping declarations. Our numbers are low and we can't afford to lose any more fighters, especially after the four that fell at the bridge. And as much as I hate to admit it, some of the best are in that group. At the very least we need their knowledge of demolitions."

Hal let out an angry scoff. "Evey, you can't be serious right now. They kidnapped you. They held a gun to your head and you want to what? Braid them friendship bracelets? Do trust falls? Don't be ridiculous."

"Not too fast, Hal," Tom said in a placating tone, holding out a hand to moderate his son's tone. "We need to look at this from all angles. Now the Berserkers may be volatile, but they are a valuable resource. Now Lyle, Tector, Crazy Lee, they were just following orders. They're not the problem. Pope is the problem."

"Wait a minute," Anthony said, holding out a steadying hand, "I'm not defending what Pope did, but the man does have a point. Tom, Evey, no offense, but noone knows what the aliens might have done to you."

"No, no, no," Hal said, holding up a hand like he was trying to stop that conversation in its tracks. "Dr. Glass removed whatever it was. And Evey didn't even have one in her at all."

Evelyn sighed and tightened her arms around her waist even further. "Maybe that's exactly what they wanted, Hal. Nothing is for sure in a situation like this. There's just no way of knowing." The expression that crossed Hal's face almost looked like he felt betrayed. Evelyn blinked in confusion. She was just presenting all the options. It was something that had to be done.

Anthony glanced between Evelyn and Hal awkwardly, clearly feeling like he was intruding in the exchange. "Look, I'm not saying we grab our pitchforks and run you two out of town or whatever. I'm just saying that Pope isn't the only one wondering if we have a couple of walking time bombs wandering around."

Evelyn could feel Hal fidgeting next to her. He was angry. In fact, he was pissed. So freaking hot-headed all the time, especially when it came to family. There was no reason there, no objectivity. She couldn't understand that sort of inflexibility or that sort of certainty. Hal's faith in his father was some strange combination of love and hero-worship that was beyond her. She had never trusted another human being that much, and doubted that she ever would. That knowledge made her feel strangely empty, but in the end she knew it was for the best, especially in the world they lived in.

"He's right," Tom said quietly, interrupting her internal monologue. "I think he's right. We can't be completely certain of what they did to us. There could still be a threat to the group."

Hal rolled his eyes in disbelief. "Dad, there's no way you're a threat—"

"We've lost a lot of fighters," Tom said, cutting him off. "We're not exactly in a position to be picky. The benefit of giving me a weapon outweighs the risk of me being a liability. Wouldn't you say so Captain?"

"That's the way I see it," Weaver said almost giddily—or as close to giddy as he was physically able to get. He had been searching for a justification—any justification—for Tom to stay, and Tom had just handed it to him.

"Alright," Tom continued, nodding slowly. "Then the same has to hold for Pope as well. He has to stay on."

"You lost me there, Tom."

"We need him," Tom said firmly. "For better or worse, they listen to him. The Berserkers do the things that the rest of us can't or won't."

Weaver turned to Evelyn and leveled her with a look like he was asking her to argue, to contradict Tom. She was the other victim in this scenario, so her word had to count for something, right? She sighed and rubbed at her forehead. "Pope is a wildcard," she said in a tired voice. "Hell, sometimes I think he's certifiably insane, but honestly I think we need a little bit of that. Crazy gets us innovation, and when we're fighting something this big….we need innovation."

Weaver bit his lip and shook his head slowly. "I understand what it is you're trying to say, but it's not enough. We've given Pope too many chances already. Something has got to change."

"I agree," he said, a pensive look crossing his face. Evelyn could see the gears working behind his eyes. He was coming up with some half-assed plan that would seem ridiculous on paper, but would ultimately end up working out. He caught her eye and gave her a half-smile and a slight nod before turning back to Weaver. "Assign me to the Berserkers. If I know where he is I can keep my eye on him. So? Permission to join the Berserkers?"

"Fine," Weaver said with a wry, slightly suspicious smile. "Permission granted."

Evelyn could feel the tension emanating from Hal in waves. He did not like this plan. He didn't like it one bit. And honestly she wasn't too comfortable with it either. She cleared her throat lightly and raised her hand slightly to catch everyone's attention. "Tom, I get the feeling that part of this is a way to prove to the Berserkers that you're not going to flip out and eat their faces off or something, but when it comes to Pope it's going to be a no-go. Everything you do right is going to be an alien ploy to ingratiate yourself with the natives and everything you do wrong is going to be proof that you've been flipped."

"I know that, Evey, but I don't need Pope's loyalty. I need the loyalty of his men. A rabid dog with no teeth isn't all that dangerous."

Evelyn exhaled sharply. "For your sake I hope you're right. Now what's the plan for me?" She looked around at all their confused faces. "I mean, Tom's not the only liability. What's my deal? Do I join the Berserkers too, or—"

There were two very loud, very vocal cries of 'No!'. One of them—Hal's—she had expected, but for some reason Anthony had chimed in as well. She furrowed her eyebrows and stared at him, scowling slightly. "I'm a big girl, Anthony. If it comes to it, I am more than capable of dealing with Pope."

"Oh, I'm all aware of that," Anthony replied with an uncomfortable laugh, "and that's most of the problem. You and Pope—the two of you have a weird sort of thing where you understand each other, but you're always try and one-up each other. To be honest it's some of the most dysfunctional stuff I've ever seen. Put the two of you in a unit together—if your arguing doesn't get us all killed, then you'll end up lighting each other on fire or some shit like that."

Evelyn snorted. Now that she thought about it, any sort of prolonged collaboration with Pope seemed completely unrealistic. In fact, they'd never gone more that five minutes without trying to rip each other to shreds. With words, of course, though Pope now seemed to be branching out in that respect. "You're probably right."

"You know what, Walsh," Weaver said placing a hand on her shoulder, "you just stay where you are." He sighed heavily and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Alright," he said wearily, "I don't see us figuring anything else out tonight. Everyone try and get some shuteye."

A few more innocuous pleasantries later and Evelyn found her heading back towards her tent, dragging her feet. Hal had insisted on walking her back, supposedly to make sure that she wasn't accosted again along the way, but she saw his efforts for what they were. He was babysitting. He kept glancing at her over and over again like he expected her to break down in to a fit of tears or something. Well if that was what he wanted, then he was going to leave seriously disappointed.

She knew that his concern shouldn't make her angry—that she should probably be grateful for it—but it did make her angry. It made her ball up her hands into fists and dig her fingernails into the skin of her palm. She didn't like it when people thought she was weak. Most of her life people had assumed that of her. Little Miss Princess who would cry if she broke a nail. She was better than that. She was a fucking badass.

Evelyn was aware that Hal knew she wasn't weak, but he always seemed to jump at the chance to treat her like a freaking porcelain doll. Maybe that was the result of some misguided machismo complex from too many video games and too much Red Bull, but she would have none of it. Not from him at least. She wouldn't let him tiptoe around the issue.

"Hal, you make a seriously shit bodyguard."

He blinked and turned back face her again. "What are you talking about?"

"Please," she said through a snort. "A bodyguard is supposed to protect the client—to look at all the threats around that person. Therefore it is your job to observe the surrounding area, looking for potential threats. You've been staring at me. Am I the threat in this scenario?"

A guilty expression crossed Hal's face, but it lasted for only a second before hardening into resolve. He shoved his hands in his pockets, and sighed heavily. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he stared at his feet and started walking more quickly, outstripping her a bit. Evelyn grabbed hold of his arm, bringing him to a stop. She leaned down, trying to search out his eyes which were still trained on the pavement below. "Hal are we going to talk about this or not?"

"About what?" he said slightly angrily, shrugging his shoulders in a way that was almost hostile. "What could we possibly have to talk about?"

Evelyn ground her teeth and rocked back on her heels. "Don't be a dick, Hal. You know exactly what I'm talking about. You can't act for shit. You were terrible in the 4th grade when we did 'Peter Pan' and if it's possible you've gotten even worse since then. You and Tom had your loud whisper conversation and now you're looking at me like I'm about to crack open like a piñata full of crazy."

Hal ran his hands through his hair and groaned. "What the hell did you expect, Evey?" he shouted in a voice loud enough to earn hushes from some nearby people. Hal closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Grabbing hold of her hand, he yanked her after him, moving through the hangar until they found each other outside the steel doors. He grabbed hold of her shoulders and pushed her against the wall. Evelyn could see the jaw muscles in his jaw twitching in frustration. Evelyn stared back at him silently, waiting for him to speak. "I—I just don't understand you, Evey. You say you're not going anywhere—that you're staying with us for as long as you can—and then you dare Pope to shoot you? I thought you were over this whole death wish thing."

Evelyn slammed her head back against the wall behind her. "I don't have a death wish. We've been over this before, remember."

"Yeah," he said through a bitter laugh, "you say that, but then you ask Pope to kill you."

Evelyn's jaw tensed. "I think some context is appropriate here—"

"Screw the context!" he yelled. He yelled so loud the tendons on his neck protruded harshly. He turned and took a few steps away from her, pulling at his hair again. "It's like you've given up or something. You've stopped fighting back. I should have said something back at the medical bus when he pulled that gun on you. But now…it's like you're lying down and waiting for—" He threw his hands in the air in frustration, leaving the statement open-ended.

Those words were like a knife to the gut. Evelyn inhaled sharply. She had never thought of it that way, but she could see how someone else might. "I haven't given up. I've just chosen my battle."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Pope isn't the enemy here, remember? The skitters are. That's what everybody seems to keep forgetting. Me being here is ripping the 2nd Mass in half, but I can't leave. I can't be anywhere else, I—" She sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose, and stared intently at her feet. "You don't understand, Hal," she said quietly.

"Hey," he whispered, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Then make me understand."

She clenched her teeth and looked at him for a few moments. "I need a reason. I—I need a cause."

"What kind of cause."

Evelyn slid down against the wall behind her till she was sitting with her knees tucked under her chin. She wrapped her arms around her legs, pulling them in as tightly as possible. She must have looked really pathetic because Hal caved and sat down next to her.

"So much in this world has just poofed out of existence, you know?" she muttered quietly. "There's no more trivial stuff—no more interruptions or distractions. I can't bury myself in school or books or TV. The way I see it, you need to dedicate yourself to something. The fight—this war—the 2nd Mass, and…and, well, you—that's all I've got left in this world. If that's gone, then there's nothing there for me. All I can do is wait to die, I'm just a slab of meat waiting to go bad. So, yeah, letting Pope shoot me was preferable to going out on my own and wandering the forest until I puked myself to death." She cleared her throat and picked at her nails absently. "But Ben and Jimmy found us so really none of it matters anymore."

There was a short silence, but Evelyn knew it wouldn't last long. "What if Ben and Jimmy had been ten minutes later?" Hal asked in a voice raspy with emotion. "What then?"

"Well then I suppose I would be dead," she said quietly. The look Hal gave her made her shiver. She sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder, placing a hand on his arm. "Look, you guys are over-reacting," she continued, drawing out what was probably the most contemptuous snort known to man. "I'm serious, Hal. I don't want to die—in fact I'm pretty much set against it—but there was no way I was going to leave. And plus I'm pretty sure the shock factor scared some of them into changing their minds on the whole thing to begin with. Let's just chalk the whole thing up to a seriously unfortunate choice of words."

Hal wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in to his chest. "Just don't fucking do it again. Use that giant brain of yours to think yourself out of the situation."

"Yeah," she replied, laughing lightly. "I'll be sure to do that."

Neither of them moved for a while. Evelyn could hear Hal's heartbeat through his heavy flannel shirt. It was strong and steady, just like him. She shifted her head back so that she could look up at him. "We're good, right?" she asked quietly. "Still partners?"

He looked down at her with that cocky grin of his. "Always." Evelyn couldn't help but smile back. And then something strange happened. Hal's eyes moved down her face and though she couldn't be entirely sure, Evelyn thought that they were focusing on her lips. He cleared his throat and she could have sworn that he was leaning in. She could feel herself beginning to lean in too when all the sudden Ben and Jimmy walked by, talking excitedly about some new ammunition they had managed to pilfer from the Berserkers tent.

Hal and Evelyn moved apart quickly. They sat next to each other, not touching, but she could still feel him sitting there right there. It was that sort of hyper-awareness of another person that made you feel as if you were touching, even though you weren't. And they both staring anywhere but at each other. Evelyn ran her hands through her hair, quickly pulling the loose locks into a ponytail. She didn't know why she did it—maybe it was a weird way of closing down her vulnerability. Shut it down. Shut it all down. She was a mess. It wasn't fair—none of it was fair—and she was such a mess.

Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. The movement had been so subtle it might as well have never happened, and it would probably be best if it hadn't. She couldn't do this-not right now at least. She wasn't emotionally equipped for something like that.

"It's been a long day," she said, the exhaustion edging to her voice. "Being kidnapped by an unhygienic biker with a massive chip on his shoulder really takes it out of you."

"Yeah," he returned, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly. "I could really do with a drink."

Evelyn laughed, causing Hal to look back at her with furrowed eyebrows. "What's funny?"

She shot him a sly smile and reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out a rather large metal flask. "It's Pope's," she said, trying to fight back peals of laughter. "I kind of sort of pick pocketed him when I was frog-marching him back to camp." She slowly waved it back and forth in front of his face, making the liquid slosh back and forth inside of it. "And it's full…." she drew out in a playful voice.

Hal let out a bark of laughter and took it from her. "You are not the girl I remember from high school," he mumbled, taking a swig and coughing heavily as it went down.

"And you must not be the same boy I knew in high school," she said through a smirk, taking the. "You would think the captain of the lacrosse team would be able to handle his liquor." She took a drink from it herself and started spluttering as well. "Jesus Christ!" she shouted looking at the flask. "What the hell is in there? Jet fuel?"

Hal smirked a bit, but stared out across the tarmac with a far-away look on his face. There was no brave face on just then. The mask was gone. Evelyn felt her stomach clench. She had been so selfish over the past few days—so occupied with herself and her own problems—that she hadn't realized just how heavily all this was weighing on Hal. "Hey," she said punching him lightly on the shoulder, "what's going on in that head of yours?"

He shook himself to attention and ran his hands down his face. "I just want to forget this day ever happened."

Evelyn sighed and rested her head against the wall behind her. She rolled her head against the brick so that she was looking at him. "Drunk astronomy?"

Hal nodded enthusiastically. "Hell, yes."

**So that's chapter 14. I hope you enjoyed it. I wrote it while surrounded by cups of tea and tissues, so I hope it came out well enough.**

**And here's to the reappearance of 'drunk astronomy!'**

**Please review! It kills skitters and mechs!**


	16. The Tipping Point

**Merry Christmas to you all!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not have and scruffy little beard. Therefore I am not Steven Spielberg and do not own 'Falling Skies'. Any familiar dialogue is taken from the show.**

**Thanks to Druid Archer, Ophelia Nation, Guest, JDMlvr1, MySoxRockXD, Izzy-I.R.T., and Niamh O'Mahony for reviewing.**

** Niamh O'Mahony: Evey might get a little depressing for a few chapters, but she will never EVER be needy. And if she starts to seem that way, smack me across the face. In print of course.**

** Izzy-I.R.T.: I hope the Ben and Evey scenes were to your satisfaction.**

**Photos of OCs, soundtracks, are on my profile.**

Chapter 15 – The Tipping Point

How was it that she had come to be here? The question was rolling on a loop in her mind like one of those late-night infomercials as she stood there in the mud and the dark, trying very hard not to think about the warm, sticky blood under her feet. The cool night air that should have smelled fresh and clean was tainted by the stink of burnt skitter flesh and night sky was obscured by the smoke emanating from the still-burning bodies. Evelyn stood there frozen, her brain refusing to believe what her eyes told her they were seeing. It couldn't be true. Things like that shouldn't happen—not in any sort of world, let alone this one.

How was it that she had come to be here? How has things ended up this way? The day had started so normally. Well, not normally per se. She had woken up outside the hangar covered by Hal's jacket and with her head on his shoulder. It had made her unreasonably happy, especially given her nearly violent avoidance of the almost-kiss the night before. Of course that happiness had been dampened by the headache and dry, sticky mouth that usually followed an especially enthusiastic game of 'drunk astronomy'. She had quickly moved away before Hal woke up, instead opting to lean against the empty oil barrel on her other side. It wasn't nearly as warm or comforting, but she needed to maintain some distance from him. For now at least. If she didn't. he might have read something into it that she wasn't equipped to deal with.

The rest of the day had progressed uneventfully. She had averted Max's quest for retribution against Pope—that would have been a terrifying confrontation—she helped Maggie clean out the weapons that were starting to rust, she had gotten caught by Anne trying to pilfer a few Advil from the med bus. All in all it had been a productive, well-balanced, functional day. It had been a good day. Then she had lain down to sleep on that musty, lumpy cot, and that's when everything had gone to shit.

That's how Evelyn had come to be here. She had been wrenched out of sleep by that ringing noise. It was like the sand sound she had heard coming from the crashed alien ship she and Ben had found and that ridiculous structure, but it was stronger and louder, and there was nothing around that could possibly be giving rise to it. It was in her head—it was all in her head—and it morphed into something hauntingly beautiful, like the strains of a violin.

And then Evelyn started to run. She had no idea where she was going or why she was going there, but she knew she had to keep running because something was waiting for her at the end of that road and whatever it was, it was important. The wind sent her red hair flying and if whipped her face, stinging her flesh and leaving is raw. All there was—all that existed—was the pounding of her feet against the ground beneath her and that strange pull that was telling her where to go. And so she ran. She ran faster than any normal human being should be able to run, and she never missed a step. When she skidded to a halt in that clearing, she wasn't even out of breath. Until she saw what was in the clearing. Then it was like she was being suffocated.

There were two figures thrown into relief by the dying flames that hadn't quite finished consuming their victims. She couldn't see their faces, but she knew who they were. But what were they doing out here? This was way, way beyond the outer perimeter. They had no reason to be here.

"Ben? Jimmy?"

Neither of them responded. They didn't even look over at her. She just heard a sickening gurgling sound and soft whispers of 'you're going to be okay'. It was then that she realized that one of them was considerably taller than he should be. After a few more steps forward she realized why. Evelyn opened her mouth to say something, anything, or even to scream, but there was no air left in her lungs to do any such thing.

Jimmy was pinned to the tree. He was pinned to the tree by a thick, gnarled branch protruding through his gut, just hanging there like a forgotten scarecrow. Evelyn knew that she should do something—that she should help him—but she couldn't make herself move. It was as if her legs had turned to stone and her vocal chords were paralyzed. She was a statue—quiet, still, and useless. Then Ben moved to pull Jimmy off the branch and the cold, primal sound that erupted from her mouth was chilling even to her.

"No!"

Ben spun around, finally registering her presence. There was a look of fear and panic on his face that wasn't like anything she had ever seen before. He was so shaken that he didn't even question why she was standing there, in the middle of nowhere, wearing only her combat boots and the tank top and gym shorts she slept in. Not that she could have given him a straight answer if he asked.

"They—they attacked, Evey!" he said in an unsteady, stammering voice. "We shot two but then there was this other one who hit Jimmy and—what to we do? What am I supposed to do?"

Evelyn shook her head, snapping herself to attention. Emotions didn't help in situation like this, and neither did questions. She needed to be cold, clinical, and efficient. She could fall apart later, but now they needed her help—Jimmy needed her help. Evelyn marched forward, grabbing the large, slightly rusted knife from Ben's belt. "Hold him up," she said shortly. "Take the weight off of the branch. I need to cut through it. We can't take it out—at this point probably the only thing keeping him from bleeding internally. We need to get him to Anne as soon as possible."

Ben nodded dumbly and did as he was told. Evelyn sawed at the branch as quickly as possible, her anxiety rising as the seconds ticked by. The fucking knife wasn't serrated—she might as well be using a butter knife. After what felt like an eternity, there was a loud cracking noises the last bit of wood that remained splintered beneath Jimmy's weight, sending the young boy crashing to the ground.

"You're going to be okay, Jimmy," Ben kept whispering over and over again. Evelyn felt like he was trying to convince himself more than his friend. Jimmy couldn't hear him anyway. He had fallen unconscious.

"Hey," she said harshly, snapping her fingers in front of Ben's face, forcing him to look at her. "You need to keep it together, man. Jimmy needs you to keep it together. Do you hear me?"

Ben stared at her blankly for a few moments before nodding slowly. "Okay," Evelyn said through a small sigh of relief. "Okay. Now we need to get him home."

Each of them grabbed hold of one of his arms, dragging it over their shoulder, and the started to run. Jimmy hung there, suspended between the two of them as they ran and ran. His feet were dragging in the dirt, drawing the path they took like in one of those cartoons she wasn't allowed to watch as a kid.

When they were finally within sight of the airport, Evelyn let out a small, desperate-sounding laugh, but her joy was tempered by the fact that she could feel Jimmy's skin growing colder. "Come on, Jimmy," she whispered quietly as she and Ben pulled him through that small gap in the chain link fence. "We're almost there, so keep fighting. If you give up now, I'm going to kick your ass."

Ben stayed unnervingly silent—he had been for the entire trip. There were no words of comfort or encouragement for his fallen friend, just a huge, looming wall of nothing. Evelyn could feel the sensation of guilt rolling off of him in wave as they pulled Jimmy's limp body across the tarmac. She tried her best to ignore the cries of shock and fear as the three of them made there way under the harsh, dim lighting of the hangar. There was only one thing that mattered, and that was getting Jimmy to the medical bus.

"What the hell?" she heard Weaver's voice say somewhere in the background. She vaguely registered him, Hal, and Tom pushing their way out of his tent as the three of them passed by. Evelyn ignored them and kept moving. "Anne!" she shouted at the top of her voice. "Anne, we need you to ready the medical bay right now!"

Anne poked her head out of the back of the bus, rubbing at her bleary eyes, but all signs of sleepiness vanished as she registered what was running towards her. "Oh my God," she said, her voice thick with shock. She blinked and stood frozen for a moment before moving to action. "Tom, Captain," she said looking at the two men standing behind Evelyn, "help them get Jimmy up here. And be gentle."

"He's got a branch embedded in his lower abdomen," Evelyn said breathlessly as they gingerly carried Jimmy's body up those steps. "I'd say he's lost a lot of blood. Probably over three pints."

Inside the bus was a flurry of action. Anne and Lourdes were moving as fast as they could, grabbing at all the materials they needed. Evelyn stood there, wishing she could do something to help, but she knew that she would only be getting in their way. "Put him down on the table, laying on his side," Anne shouted at them from the back of the bus. "We don't want to dislodge the branch before knowing the damage it's done."

Evelyn nodded mutely and did as she was told. Anne held Jimmy's body in place, examining the wound. In the dark it had looked bad, but under the lights of the bus—Evelyn drove her hands into her loose hair, pulling it away from her face and yanking on it slightly so that her scalp started to sting. It didn't look good. It really didn't look good. In a hospital with all the amenities of modern medicine Jimmy would probably have been fine, but out here in the middle of nowhere—

"It's a good thing you left the branch still in place," Lourdes said, staring poignantly at Ben. He would have lost a lot of more blood otherwise."

Ben nodded absently. He wasn't really paying any attention. His eyes were fixed on his friend who was bleeding out on the table.

"Give me the tray," Anne ordered, trying her best to stay collected. "And I'll be needing gauze and scissors."

"Let's get out of here," Weaver said firmly. "Give them some room to work."

"No," Ben said, his voice cracking slightly. "No, I'm not leaving him."

Weaver put a hand on Ben's shoulder. "We need to talk, son."

Ben just kept shaking his head manically. As Evelyn stared at his broken expression, she wanted to cry, to start sobbing hysterically for both of these young kids, but she didn't. All she could feel was numb. She could tell him that it would be okay, that Jimmy would be fine, that there would be a happy ending, but anything comforting would have been a lie. So instead she tried to give the most hopeful-sounding version of the truth. "Ben," she said putting a hand on his arm, "the best thing you can do for Jimmy is let them work, okay? You being here isn't going to make him get better faster. We have to give them a chance.

Ben looked up at her with wide, wet eyes and nodded silently. He looked so young—so very young. Over the past few weeks she had gotten used to that stoic, cold, battle-hardened expression of his, but now that was gone. The mask had slipped and all she saw was a scared, confused little boy who had no idea what to do. Evelyn looked at Weaver and inclined her head to indicate that she had the situation under control and he nodded back, turning to head back down the stairs. Then Evelyn wrapped her arm around Ben's shoulders and guided him down as well, trying her best to ignore the simultaneously calm and panicked voices left behind them.

As soon as she exited the bus, she saw Hal pacing back and forth anxiously between Tom and Weaver. She had forgotten that he had been there, that he had seen them dragging Jimmy's lifeless body.

"Holy shit," he said jogging up to her. "What the hell happened to you? You went to sleep, how did—" He brought his hand up to the side of her face and began wiping at it with the sleeve of his jacket. That's when Evelyn looked down at her hands and realized that they were covered in blood. She didn't want those hands. Not anymore.

"It's not mine," she said quietly, looking up at Hal. "None of it's mine." He stared back, his eyes wide with concern. He looked her up and down, suddenly realizing that she was only wearing her tank top and shorts and shrugged out of his jacket, draping it over her shoulders instead. Evelyn pulled it tight around her, feeling the cold for the first time since she had climbed out of bed.

All of the sudden she felt a thick, calloused hand on the back of her neck, pushing her forward. Weaver sent her stumbling forward so that she collided with Ben, and then glared menacingly down at them both. "What in the hell were you two doing out there, Ben? Walsh? Why is Jimmy on that table?"

Evelyn's stomach clenched. What possible explanation could she offer for her presence there? She should probably tell them the truth, but she could hardly believe it herself. An unseen force drove her to get out of bed and start running? She would sound like a lunatic. Or worse, like an enemy. Her mind was racing a million miles a minute, but Ben answered for her. "Evey wasn't there when it happened," Ben said quietly, covering for her. "She found me with Jimmy when I got back to the tarmac and helped me get him inside."

"Fine then," Weaver continued, advancing on him. "What were you and Jimmy doing alone in the dark when you had no orders to that effect?"

Ben didn't answer at first. He just looked around trying to find something—anything—that would save him from these questions. Evelyn recognized that look in his eyes. He wanted to bolt—to run. But there was nowhere to go. He was like a wild animal being forced into a cage. All her could do was submit. "Hunting skitters," he said in a voice so quiet even she could barely hear him. "Jimmy and I were hunting skitters."

"Hunting?" Hal demanded hoarsely, taking a few angry steps towards Ben. "Is that what you were doing when you found Dad and Evey last night? You were hunting?"

Tom placed a steadying hand on Hal's chest. Evelyn could see that he was trying to be calm—trying to be reasonable—but he was ready to snap. Jimmy was so young, and Tom was a parent. "What were you doing hunting skitters, Ben?"

A strangled sound came out of Ben's mouth. Evelyn couldn't quite tell if he was laughing or crying. Maybe it was both. "They put spikes in my back! They kidnapped you! They killed Mom! They killed everybody! Do I need a reason?"

"No, Ben," Evelyn muttered in a low voice, "but you need to have reason. Seeking them out like that is never a good idea. You had no back up, nobody knew where you were. You can't just wander like that. People will get h—"

"Like we don't see enough combat?" Weaver growled in a dangerous-sounding voice. "You had to go looking for it?"

Weaver's voice broke, like he was ready to cry. Evelyn's head snapped around to look at him. His hands were shaking, his eyes were wet. The last time she had seen Weaver this discomposed was when he had that nervous breakdown before the attack on the structure in Boston. It made sense, though. He had lost all of his family, and so had Jimmy. The two of them sort of snapped into place like the pieces of a puzzle. Father and son. Or at least the closest thing to it they could find.

Evelyn turned to face Ben, who was clamming up under the scrutiny. His body tensed and his jaw twitched like he was physically preparing himself to answer Weaver's question. "Till every last one of those things is dead, yes."

Ton closed his eyes. He was caught somewhere between worry and disappointment. But there was something else mixed in, something that she could tell he wasn't very proud of. Tom was relieved. He was relieved that it was Jimmy on the table and not Ben.

"Hal," Tom said, never taking his eyes off his middle son, "take your brother back to the tent and get him cleaned up.

"No," Ben said, shaking his head again, "I'm going back to the medical bus. I'm staying with Jimmy."

Tom stepped forward and grabbed hold of his collar. "You can't walk around camp looking like that," he whispered harshly. "You'll cause a panic. Go change first." He turned to face Evelyn who was standing there looking almost comical in her boots, shorts, and too-big jacket. "You go with them."

And then Tom gave her a poignant look, a look that was telling her that she had work to do. She glanced between the two boys. Ben's jaw was clenched firmly and Hal was glaring daggers. Keep the peace. That was her job.

The three of them walked off. The silence that enshrouded them was deafening to Evelyn. It was like she could hear their thoughts screaming, and they were screaming at each other. Hal and Ben, their relationship was hanging by a few small threads, and those threads were starting to fray. Something like happening this would be like attacking whatever there was left with a pair of scissors.

When they got back to the tent, Ben immediately grabbed his canteen and an old T-shirt and moved to the corner where he began to wipe away his best friend's blood. Evelyn wanted to go and talk to him, but Hal had his hand on her shoulder and pushed her down so that she was sitting on the bed. He quickly grabbed a rag, moistened it, and started wiping the blood from her face. She shivered a bit as the cold water and rough fabric came into contact with her skin.

"You sure you're alright?" Hal asked in a low voice, using his thumb to rub off some of the mud and dirt that had collected at her temple. Evelyn nodded, trying to keep from leaning into his hand. Part of her wanted to tell him that she wasn't a baby and that she could wash her own freaking face, she didn't want to be one of those needy girls who relied on a guy to take care of her. She didn't need Hal right now, but she had been pushing him away so much lately she was afraid he would stop coming back. That and the feeling of his hand on her face caused a sort of warm fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach—a sort of silly-happy feeling—and she needed some of that after everything she had been through over the past few days.

Hal sighed and glanced over at the defeated-looking silhouette of his brother. "I can't believe he would be that stupid," Hal said, grabbing her chin and roughly turning her head so that he could get a better look at the other side of her face. "He could have given away our location, he could have brought them down on us."

"If they knew where we were, they would already be here, Hal," she said quietly. "Anyway, we shouldn't be thinking about that now. Jimmy's halfway between life and death right now."

Hal let out a bitter laugh. "And whose fault is that?"

Evelyn grabbed his hand and wrenched it away from her face. His eyes snapped to hers, and she stared back, almost angry at his callousness. "Don't you dare, Hal. Don't you fucking dare blame him. He's blaming himself enough as it is."

Hal pulled his hand from hers and began wiping again, avoiding her gaze. "He should be," Hal spat. "He's putting everyone in danger. He's not even thinking about the people he could be hurting. I seriously doubt Jimmy will be the last. He should know better by now."

"What about Jimmy?" Evelyn asked. "He's been in the fight longer than Ben. He should have known better too." She covered Hal's hand with her own, making him pause and look at her again. "They're just kids, Hal," she said, staring at him, trying to make him understand. "As much as they've had to grow up over the past year, they're still just kids, and kids do stupid crap. They're going to be reckless. They're going to be careless. A year ago that would have meant cutting class or stealing your grandparent's car for a joy ride. Hell, you knocked over Mrs. McCutcheon's mailbox with your mom's car that time. Now teenage rebellion means this. The stakes are higher, so the consequences are more severe."

Hal shook his head and let his hand drop, leaving hers feeling oddly cold. He looked over at her brother for a few moments, before letting his head sag down. "That's not it. It's like he's not my brother anymore. It's like he doesn't care about us—about anything—except killing them. Kill them and damn the consequences, however high they may be."

"That's not true, Hal."

His head shot up and he stared at her hard. "Isn't it though? He shot you. He shot Dad. You nearly died and—and now Jimmy. He's racking up a pretty big list of collateral damage here."

Evelyn bit her lip, her eyes searching Hal's face. He meant it. He meant every word of it. She took the rag away from Hal and put a hand on his shoulder. "Let me talk to him, okay? Just give me ten minutes."

Hal nodded and stood up, moving towards the tent flap. He paused at the exit and looked back at her with a sad expression on his face. "Just don't expect too much," he said with a mirthless smile. "I don't anymore." Then he disappeared on the other side of the fabric.

Evelyn sighed heavily and pulled at her hair nervously. The rift between the two Mason boys was widening, and she feared that soon the day would come when they couldn't bridge it. She moved to the other side of the tent and sat on the cot opposite Ben, who was staring intently at the floor. She had no doubt in her mind that he had heard the entirety of her conversation with Hal, and she was fairly confident that Hal knew he could hear them. It was incredibly passive aggressive and she should probably be angry with him for pulling something like that, but she was too tired to be angry.

Ben looked defeated. He was sitting there next to a bowl of water that had been turned red. His hands were clean, but his face was still covered in blood, dry, caked, and turning black. Evelyn took hold of the old T-shirt he had loosely grasped in his hand, and dipped it in the water. "You should really know to clean out your own wounds by now," she murmured, turning his face to the side and wiping the blood off his face much like Hal had been doing for her seconds before. For some reason he had thought she deserved the help while his own brother didn't. How wrong he was. Evelyn was keeping secrets too, probably the same secrets as Ben. And even though every piece of conscience was rebelling against keeping that secret, she couldn't make herself tell. Partly because she had no idea what it was that she was supposed to tell.

Ben smacked her hand away from his face, folding his arms across his chest and putting on his broody face. Evelyn sighed and put down the ruined fabric, folding her hands together. "Ben, I need you to tell me what happened in that clearing."

He let out an angry snort. "You know what happened, Evey. Just ask Hal. I killed Jimmy. That's what happened."

Evelyn narrowed her eyes at him. "Cut the crap, Ben. I'm sick of this passive aggressive bullshit, from you and from Hal. What happened to Jimmy was nobody's fault. He put himself in that position just like you did, and it could've just as easily been you on that table."

Evelyn groaned and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. When would it ever get easier? Everybody seemed so eager to judge and misunderstand each other. Nobody seemed willing to take a step back from it all, especially Hal and Ben. But that was family, wasn't it? Evelyn used to think that family in its true sense meant an undying loyalty, but these days it seemed more like setting yourself up for disappointment. Everything was falling apart. But she didn't have time for that.

"Hey!" she growled smacking the side of Ben's head and making him turn to her with a look of surprise. "I need you to get out of your own head right now, because this isn't just about you. I need to know what happened in that clearing because I need to know why I ended up there."

Ben finally looked at her with something other than anger or self-hatred written on his face. This time it was confusion. "What do you mean?"

Evelyn gritted her teeth. "You didn't find it the least but curious that I happened upon you and Jimmy in the middle of the night in my jammies? I—I'm not sure how I got there. The noise, the ringing—it woke me up and told me where to go. The directions were programmed into my head like I was a fucking GPS in someone's car. I need to know why I ended up there, so tell me exactly what happened, and don't bullshit me. I'll know if you're lying. I can always tell when you Masons are lying."

Ben blinked and stared for a moment, finally realizing her appearance. Her wild, unkempt hair, her boots without socks, the scratches on her legs that had formed from running through the brush, it all painted a fairly ridiculous picture. "Right," he said absently, clearing his throat. "Right. We saw the skitters—three of them— and drew them in. Jimmy took out two with the Berserkers' 'Dragon's Breath' rounds. But the third one with the red eye, it was too fast. It through Jimmy into the tree and—"

Evelyn didn't let him finish his sentence. "It had a red eye?" she demanded in a panicked voice. "Did it look like it had been burned? Like half of its face was melted like candle wax?"

Ben's eyes widened slightly. "Y—yeah."

Evelyn felt her stomach twist with fear, confusion, and, for some reason, excitement. "I know that skitter. It was on the ship with me and Tom. It's the one that let us go."

Ben gaped at her until she waved at him, indicating for him to continue. "Well that skitter, it threw Jimmy into the tree. At first I though he was going to be okay, but then-well you know the rest. You were there for the rest."

Evelyn sat there quiet for a moment, expecting him to have something else to say. But he didn't. He just sat there stony-faced with that same angsty expression of self-hatred and bitterness. Evelyn cleared her throat and leaned in a bit closer. "What else happened, Ben?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated a moment, clamming up under the scrutiny. She could see the gears turning behind his eyes, trying to come up with the most plausible explanation. "There's nothing else to say, Evey," Ben murmured, staring down at his feet. "The red-eyed skitter must have gotten scared away or something when you ran up. It must have thought that you were backup or something."

A hot ball of anger began to form in the pit of Evelyn's stomach. "I can't accept that, Ben. The skitters don't get scared away, not by one unarmed girl running through the woods. And it doesn't explain how I got there." She leaned further down, forcing herself into his eye line. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Give it a rest, why don't you!" he shouted, throwing himself to his feet and driving his hands into his hair in frustration. "How am I supposed to know how you ended up there? Maybe you heard the signal from a mech or a ship or something and followed it. It's not my job to know why you do everything, okay? I don't have your answers, so why don't you just leave me alone?"

Gritting her teeth, Evelyn stood slowly, trying to keep her temper under control. "I know you're hurting right now, but you can't speak to me like that."

Ben let out a bitter laugh. "You don't want me to speak to you like that?" he demanded angrily. "Well I've got a solution for that." And then he brushed out of the tent, wrenching the fabric out of his way so hard that part of it tore away from the supports.

Evelyn stood rooted in her place, thrown by what had just happened. She couldn't see him anymore—that shy, nice kid that might as well have been her brother. He was gone. All that was left was the fear, the anger, and the guilt. She wanted to be understanding and patient, but in that moment a tiny part of her was starting to hate Ben Mason for what he had turned into. She pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a strangled scream of frustration. Evelyn placed her hands on her hips and leaned over at the waist, sucking in long breaths to try and steady her nerves. It was her old routine from chemo to keep herself from throwing up. After a few moments, she felt calmer and stood up straight, making her way out of the tent.

Ducking through the tent flap, Evelyn suddenly found herself face-to-face with Hal who was leaning against one of the supports and looking far too smug given the gravity of the situation. She leveled him with a slightly hostile glare. "If you say 'I told you so', then I will most definitely inflict some sort of bodily harm," she growled, pushing past him. "And since when do you eavesdrop?"

"Who needs to eavesdrop?" he replied jogging after her, throwing his arm around her shoulders. "Voices tend to carry when you're screaming at each other. And why would I say 'I told you so'? That must have been an incredible demonstration of support in there. The bits I heard could go on a Hallmark card." Evelyn dropped her head and started rubbing at her forehead to work away the headache that was starting to form. The smirk quickly fell from Hal's face and was replaced with a look of concern. "Hey," he said, pulling her closer in to him, making her head lean on his shoulder, "hey, don't take it personally. It's nothing you did. The kid's gone off the rails. It's like he's not even my brother any more."

"That's not helping the situation," she bit back. "He already feels crappy enough as it is without you glaring at him all the time. He needs someone to help put him back on the rails."

Hal stopped suddenly, making her turn to him. "You can't fix everything, Evey," he said in a low voice. "You can't fix other people. If you keep trying, it'll just get in the way of….other things. It'll get in the way of life, you know?"

Evelyn sighed heavily. "It's all I've got left."

He shook his head fervently. "That's not true. That'll never be true." He stared at her for a moment before taking a few steps back and clearing his throat. "We should get back to the medical bus and check on Jimmy. It's going to be a long night for him."

Evelyn nodded slowly and followed him through the maze of fabric towards the bus. They sat there in silence. Evelyn felt herself getting more and more tired until she felt her eyes shut and her head droop to the table. She didn't know how long she was there in that state that was somewhere between sleeping and waking, but she was suddenly awoken by someone shaking her shoulder hard.

"Mmph," she groaned, not bothering to lift her head from the table. There was a heavy cloth resting over her shoulders that smelled like Hal. It was his jacket. She pulled it tighter around her and groaned again. "Five more minutes."

"Wake up, chickadee," Maggie's raspy voice whispered in her ear. "There's something you might want to see."

"What are you talking about?" she mumbled, sitting up straight. "Is Jimmy—?"

"Jimmy's still unconscious," she said shortly.

When Evelyn managed to blink the sleep out of her eyes, she saw what Maggie was talking about. People were moving in drover, making a beeline for the hangar door. And then Evelyn heard a buzzing sound. Initially she felt a colossal wave of fear, thinking that she was about to have another 'episode' like the one earlier in the evening, but the frequency was all wrong for that. Scrambling to her feet, Evelyn closed her eyes and focused in on the sound. At first it was vaguely reminiscent of a mosquito, but she opened her ears, making the noise louder and louder in her head until the whoosing of propeller blades filled her ears. Evelyn looked up at the ceiling, for some reason expecting the sky. Evelyn furrowed her eyebrows.

"Is that a plane?"

Maggie gave her a discerning look. "I think you might be able to tell better than I would."

Evelyn brushed off the implications of the statement and followed the stream of people pouring out of the hangar and onto the tarmac outside with Maggie following after her. Evelyn gaped as she saw the small plane descend and land. The propellers slowly stopped turning as the deafening roar of the engine petered out. And then a blonde woman poked her head out of the window.

"Hello!" a bright voice echoed.

Evelyn made eye contact with Hal who was standing somewhere at the front of the group. He looked just as confused as she was.

What the hell was happening right now?

**It might take a little while for my next post. I got a video-editing software for Christmas and I'm going to be trying my hand at making youtube fan vids. If I disappear for a while, never fear! I will be back!**

**Please review. It kills skitters!  
**


	17. Ghosts

**DISCLAIMER: I do not have and scruffy little beard. Therefore I am not Steven Spielberg and do not own 'Falling Skies'. Any familiar dialogue is taken from the show.**

**Photos of OCs, soundtracks, are on my profile.**

**Huge thank you to MySoxRockXD, Niamh O'Mahoney, Izzy-I.R.T., JDMlvr, XDLoveLoverLoved, and LucyRider17 for reviewing.**

**ACTUAL CHAPTER! I'm not entirely satisfied with it though. I had some difficulty sticking to the plotline and I feel like it's jumping around way too much, but I honestly am not sure of how to fix it, so here you go.**

Chapter 16 – Ghosts

Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. The sound of metal hitting gravel and dirt rang out through the clearing like a bell in the noonday sun. And it had that specific cadence, the slow but determined one that sounded so much like a funeral bell. But that's exactly what it was, right? At least that's what it meant. It was letting the world know that someone had died.

Evelyn sat on that dilapidated swingset with the faded blue, peeling paint and stared at her feet as she idly pushed herself back and forth. Her hands were clutching onto the chains like she was hanging on for dear life. The swings. She had always loved the swings. When she was a kid she would sit on the swings in her backyard and swing as high as she possibly could before jumping off. It made her feel like she was flying, and she used to pretend that she would fly far, far away to somewhere that she could be happy. Part of her wanted to start swinging right then and there so she could take off and escape from the shitstorm that her life had become, but the end result was always the same. Gravity would bring her crashing back down to earth. And then life would pull you six feet under.

The lot of them—her, Ben, Hal, Maggie, Weaver, and Tom when he got back from his foray with the Berserkers—they had held a vigil outside that medical bus while Anne and Lourdes did everything they could. Evelyn didn't pray—she didn't have anything to pray to—but she could still hope. She sat there for hours, hoping, even though the most of her life had been one giant lesson telling her why she shouldn't. But for Jimmy's sake she did it anyway. She had sat there, unmoving, quiet, and waiting. Hal had squeezed her hand every time she started to nod off like she had asked him to. She would hate herself if she had slept through any change, so he kept her awake through it all. And then, at long last, Anne had climbed down those steps, her hair frizzy except the bits that were plastered to her forehead from the sweat. Before the words came out of the woman's mouth, Evelyn already knew the answer to that giant collective question that was hovering around the bus like a looming storm cloud.

Evelyn had always hated that term, 'succumbing to your wounds' or 'succumbing to your illness'. It was that sort of doctor-speak that she had heard so many times while she was in the hospital, and every time she heard it made her seethe in anger. Not that Evelyn could blame Anne. What else could she possibly say in that sort of situation? What else was there to say? There was no good way to put it, but Evelyn hated that she had chosen those words to deliver the news. It made it sound like Jimmy had given up, that he had let his death happen. It hadn't happened that way. His life had been stolen from him.

And so Evelyn sat on that swing set and watched Weaver dig the grave of the boy who had almost been a son to him. She would have grabbed a shovel and stood in the dirt herself—she even wanted to be standing there—but she could tell that it was something the man needed to do himself. She didn't want to interfere, but she wouldn't leave him alone either. She understood that state of mind, the one where you don't want to speak to anybody but you don't want to be alone either. And there was nothing that she could really say. No parent should be forced to outlive their child, and now Weaver had done it twice.

Closing her eyes, Evelyn took a long, steadying breath and tuned out all the other noise. Numbness was easy for her now. All she had to do was focus in on the sound of the dew dripping from one of the leaves, and she was deaf to everything else. And that ignorance to everything around her was something she really needed right now, especially given all that was going on. It felt like everything was happening all at once and she couldn't piece it apart in her mind. Ben, Jimmy, her, and now Charleston. It was all just too much, and what's worse was that she had absolutely no control. She couldn't help Jimmy, she almost didn't want to help Ben, and her—that was the bit that she had the least control over. She didn't know _what _she was anymore, let alone _who _she was.

And then there was Charleston. Everybody was talking about Charleston with excitement in their voices and a light in their eyes, and she wasn't even sure that it existed. She wasn't even sure if she wanted it to exist. What was it that the woman had said? That they spent each day getting closer to normal. To Evelyn that didn't sound like good news. It sounded like complacency. It sounded like giving up the fight. But now, as she watched Weaver dig that too-small grave, a tiny, tiny voice in the back of her mind was telling her that maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing.

Drip, drip, drip. That sound was all she could here, and it lulled her into a sense of security as her mind, her soul, her anima, or whatever the hell you wanted to call it drifted away from her body and left her floating in a nebulous cloud. And she stayed there until a rough, gloved hand on her shoulder wrestled her back into consciousness.

Eyes flying open, Evelyn's head spun violently around, grabbing hold of the hand and twisting it back hard until her gaze fell on blonde hair and grey eyes.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people, Maggie," she said, exhaling heavily and letting go of the other girl's hand. "You might get your ass kicked."

"I never used to be able to sneak up on you," Maggie replied harshly, rubbing at the point where Evelyn had grabbed her. "You would always hear me coming."

Evelyn exhaled sharply and turned back to watch Weaver who was still digging, totally unaware of the fact that someone else had joined him. "Well I have other things on my mind at the moment," she muttered quietly. "Taking stock of my life and all that generic stuff you're supposed to do when something like this happened."

Maggie let out a soft, bitter laugh. "I knew I'd find you there," the girl said from her position behind Evelyn. "You always did have a masochistic streak in you. You pulled this kind of crap at the hospital all the time—always standing outside the door when the orderlies take away the other kids after they 'succumbed' or whatever. I never understood it."

"They deserved to have someone remember them other than their parents," was all that Evelyn could say in response.

She didn't turn back to look at Maggie, but Evelyn could feel her move around next to her. The rusted chains of the other swing squeaked slightly as the blonde sat down next to her. Unlike Evelyn, who was still absently pushing herself back and forth like a little kid, the blonde sat there completely still, staring off at Weaver with an expression on her face that was more serious than usual. "Jimmy was a good kid," she said in a low voice. "He didn't deserve to go that way."

Evelyn let her head sag and wiped at her eyes. "Nobody deserves to go that way. To pinned up like some sort of museum display? It's not right."

"You almost sound like you saw it for yourself."

At that statement, Evelyn froze and her eyes snapped to Maggie's, which were staring back at her with more than a little bit of suspicion in them. Evelyn stood suddenly and started to march back towards the hangar, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of Hal's coat, pulling it tight around her.

She could hear Maggie marching after her and picked up her pace, but soon enough the other girl's hand found its way to her shoulder and spun her around violently, holding her in place. Evelyn could have easily wrenched herself away—she had gotten so strong—but she didn't bother. Maggie would keep following her regardless of whether or not she got away this time.

"I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt," she said in a serious voice, "because I know—or at least I think I know—that you wouldn't _intentionally_ hurt anyone. So tell me what's going on here. Now I know that you didn't find Jimmy out on the tarmac. You were covered in fresh scratches had to come from branches. And you never even bother tying your shoes without having a handgun shoved somewhere. So what the fuck happened in that forest?"

Evelyn sighed and let her head droop again. "I wish I could tell you."

Maggie grabbed her shoulders and shook her hard. "Don't do that, chickadee. Not now, not ever. I know that you went through a lot of crap on that ship, but if you're pulling some sort of vigilante, 'Fight Club' adrenaline-rush crap in the middle of the night, I swear to God I—"

"No!" Evelyn said suddenly, cutting Maggie off. "No, it's nothing like that. It's—"

Evelyn shut her eyes and gritted her teeth. She has talked about hearing the signals from the ships and mechs with Tom, Weaver, and Anne, but that had happened in the dark hushed whispers and calculating odds while they decided whether or not she was a threat. She had gotten a reprieve—they had said that her honesty about it was proof of her independence from the skitter—but in the end all she had gotten were wan smiles and condescending pats on the back. There was no comfort or understanding. And if there was anyone who could understand fear—who could understand going to a dark place in your mind—it was definitely Maggie. Evelyn nodded determinedly, trying to show that she was ready to tell the truth, and she immediately felt Maggie's grip on her shoulders loosen.

"I didn't just run into Jimmy and Ben on the tarmac like Ben had said," she mumbled quietly. "I found them in the woods because—well I heard where they were like it was a homing signal in my head and I just—I just had to follow it. So I did and then I found them and Jimmy was—" Evelyn grunted in frustration and ran her hands down her face in frustration. "They did something to me and I can hear the skitter signals now like someone's shoved an AM radio in my brain. I don't know how or why, but I ended up in that clearing with Ben and Jimmy, but I'm glad I did, because at least I could try and help. Not that it made much of a difference." Evelyn's mouth snapped shut and she bounced up and down on her heels nervously, looking up at the older girl standing in front of her. "I need some sort of response, Mags. This is kind of a big deal."

Maggie removed her hands from Evelyn's shoulders and folded her arms across her chest. She stared at the red-head with severe expression. "Good."

Evelyn blinked. That wasn't at all the answer she had expected. "What do you mean 'good', Mags?" Evelyn hissed. "I could be part of the Matrix for all we know!"

Maggie shrugged her shoulders almost casually. "We've been here for over a week now and nothing. All they would have to do is send in a few airships and we would be gone. But they haven't. It's not like this thing is any different from Ben, and that skitter radar of his has saved our asses more than once. The way I see it, it might even be an advantage."

"That sounds like a rationalization, Margaret," Evelyn said bitterly, emphasizing the much hated full name. "Ben was harnessed. This thing with me is different. It's artificial."

"And having a giant alien slug project tentacles into your spinal cord isn't artificial?" she said shortly. "We would have been mech meat back at the school without Ben. He's saved my life more than once in the field. And so have you. Even since you got back, you've still been a self-sacrificing idiot. And if it makes you feel any better, if you start acting like a mindless stormtrooper or something, I'll shoot you myself. But until it comes to that let's not talk about it any more and head back to camp. Tom's been asking about you. For some reason he seemed to be worried about you. Last I checked he was at the medical bus."

And then Maggie spun on her heals and started marching off towards the hangar without another word, leaving Evelyn to stare at her retreating figure with slack-jawed shock. Was everybody in this camp an idiot not to be so wary of her, or was she really over-thinking the entire thing? She had helped, she had thrown herself in the line of fire, but was that enough proof? Maybe it was enough for Maggie or for Weaver, but it wasn't enough for her. At least not yet. Shaking her head to get her thoughts in order, she trailed after her friend, affording one last look over her shoulder and the bent silhouette of Weaver who was still digging the too-small grave.

Shoving her hands deeper into the pockets of Hal's coat, she walked after Maggie. Once she got back to the hangar, she remembered why she had left with Weaver in the first place. It was the air of excitement that hung around. Freaking Charleston. All those enthusiastic whispers about hot water and electricity—it seemed like most of the people there had forgotten that there was a boy lying dead not twenty feet away.

As Evelyn finally approached the medical bus, Tom was nowhere to be seen. Hal was gone too. She didn't know why, but for some reason she had expected he would stay there with Ben until the funeral. That's the way it used to be between them. But things had changed. Sticking her head inside she could see three people: Anne who was busy packing up the bus for departure, Ben who was sitting in complete silence, and Jimmy's ashen grey face. Evelyn blinked when her eyes fell on Jimmy. He looked like he had been dressed up for Sunday brunch or something in that blue colored shirt and khaki pants. It didn't feel right to her. He was a fighter and should be buried as such, with his field vest on and a weapon in his hand.

Feeling someone else's eyes on her, Evelyn wrenched her gaze away from Jimmy. Ben was sitting by the body of his friend. He was staring at her with dry eyes, but she could still see the traces of tears in the red, itchy color they had left behind. Gritting her teeth, she gave him a firm and hopefully reassuring nod. She was still furious with him, but this wasn't the time for that. It definitely wasn't the time for that.

"Evelyn," she heard Anne's soft voice say from a few feet away, "we were wondering what had happened to you. You just sort of ran off."

Evelyn turned towards the woman and offered up a weak smile. "Sorry, Anne. I guess I needed to get away for a little bit. Collect my thoughts and all that."

Anne nodded in sad understanding and threw the rag she was holding onto the counter next to her. "That's something we could all afford to do about now, given the circumstances." The woman sighed and pulled her long hair back into a ponytail before turning back to her work. "Tom was asking after you by the way," she said with her back turned.

"I know," she said sighing heavily and running her hands through her hair. "Maggie told me I would find him here." Evelyn paused for a moment next to Jimmy. If it weren't for the cold pallor of his cheeks, she would almost be able to tell herself that he was sleeping. Noticing that his collar was slightly askew, she reached down and straightened it, smoothing it down. It wasn't the first time she had seen something like this. She had spent so much time in a hospital that death had become familiar to her, but Jimmy was different. It wasn't cancer that got him. He had been murdered. He was so cold and so young, it just wasn't fair. Then again, nothing's really fair is it? And it was worse now than ever.

Her hand was still smoothing down the collar when another one, chapped from frequent washings, came to rest over it. "You don't need to be here, Evelyn," Anne whispered soothingly. "Go find Tom. He went to check in with Pope and the Berserkers."

Evelyn nodded silently and withdrew her hand from under Anne's and turned to leave the bus to head towards the Berserkers. She knew where they would be. It was where they always were when not on missions: drinking beer, mouthing off, and cursing the world on that goddamn patio. You'd thing that in the face of the freaking apocalypse they would find a way to stay productive—there was plenty of work to be done—but when it came to Pope the only things that seemed to matter were the fighting and the drinking, and he excelled at both. How Tom was going to survive working with the syphilitic grease bucket was beyond her.

As she neared the hangout, her ears pricked up at the sound of a commotion. There were shouts and jeers and the prominent sound of a fist hitting flesh. Evelyn took off at a dead sprint. She had been afraid of this when Tom had signed up with the Berserkers. To say that there was no love lost between Tom and Pope would be a massive understatement, and some sort of fallout was an inevitability. She should have known that Jimmy's death would push it over the edge. And now Tom was paying the price.

But what Evelyn found when she rounded the corner was not at all what she had expected. Tom was straddling Pope, one hand holding his collar and the other one punching him in the face over and over again. The skin on Pope's nose was split, as was that covering Tom's knuckles, and it was staining everything red. She stood there a few moments in a state of shock, trying to process what she was seeing. The rest of the Berserkers were just staring, some even laughing, but Evelyn could tell that there amusement was beginning to morph into concern.

"TOM!" she shouted as loud as she could, striding quickly towards him. "Tom it's time to stop now!" But he didn't hear her. It was like his was in some sort of violent trance. He just kept hitting and hitting. "Tom he's had enough!"

Evelyn moved behind Tom and as his arm wound back for another hit, she grabbed hold of it, forcing it behind his back and pulling him back with her. He fought against her for a bit, but she pinned his arms to his sides. "Snap out of it, Tom!" she whispered harshly in his ear. "You need to get it together!"

Tom's head snapped around to try and get a better look at her, having finally heard her voice. He slowly stopped moving and Evelyn let him go. He looked at her and then at Pope's broken face, until finally his gaze settled on something that was in his left hand. It was Jimmy's compass.

"You need to take a walk, Tom," Evelyn said in a low, meaningful tone. "Now."

Tom looked around him with a dazed expression and nodded in assent. When he walked off, he looked like he was in a fugue state, completely unaware of what he was doing. Evelyn knew there was a war going on in his head right now. Evelyn continued to watch after him until Pope burst out into a hysterical fit of laughter, like some deranged comic book villain.

"MASON!" he shouted, stumbling to his feet. "You son of a bitch! Mason, this isn't over!"

Tom ignored the jeering calls. Pope, still unsatisfied with his confrontation, wheeled around to face Evelyn. "You got your dogs trained up nice, dontcha?" he growled, shoving her back a few feet and causing her to stumble. "The entire Mason clan listens to whatever Combat Barbie says. The professor, the half-breed piece of shit, and your boyfriend all wrapped around you're little finger. Weaver too." He shoved her again, but kept advancing forward so that his face was right in front of hers. The smell of his meaty breath and the blood still flowing from his open wounds made her stomach turn, but she didn't back away.

"The lot of you make me sick," he growled, spitting on the ground next to her. "You may be able to get everyone else on board with this whole 'miraculous return', but the whole thing is a load of crap. You and daddy Mason will get the lot of us killed. Hell, I bet you were in on this last adventure too, you and that freak-show baby-face Mason had Jimmy killed. Well score one for the skitt—"

Anger was making her blood boil, and as if on it's own accord, Evelyn's head wheeled back and then slammed forwards again, connecting with Pope's and giving rise to a sickening crack. He careened backwards a few steps and she drew her right hand back, sending a strike to his face that made Pope fall onto his back for the second time. Evelyn took a step away from Pope, shaking out her now aching hand and glancing around as a collective murmur moved throughout her audience. Ignoring them, she turned back to Pope and kneeled next to his collapsed figure.

"Last I checked, I just saved your ass," she growled angrily. "And keep in mind that this is less than 48 hours after you tried to have me put down like a dog. So how's about a bit of fucking gratitude. If I go off, the first person in line to blow my brains out is me. But until then, back the hell off." She stood up and stepped back from Pope, fishing a rag out of her back pocket and tossing it at Pope's face. "Clean yourself up. I'm pretty sure Weaver's going to want a conversation." And then she walked away.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

They had been sitting a few yards away Weaver's tent for what felt like hours, her and Hal. It had probably only been ten minutes or so, knowing something important is about to happen tends to make time drag on quite a bit. Tom, Weaver, Pope, and the Berserkers were holed up in there. The impasse had been reached, and now decisions had to be made.

"Do you have any…..kings?" Evelyn asked, thumbing through the cards in her hand.

Hal sighed heavily and slapped two cards on the table. "You have got to be cheating."

"Pshah!" Evelyn exclaimed, picking up the cards and putting her newly formed set to the side. "I never cheat. Don't be bitter, Hal. It's a really unattractive quality in a person."

He let out a snort and leveled her with a skeptical stare. "Then how do you explain the fact that you have never once lost at battle ship?"

"Strategy." He narrowed his eyes at her answer. "What?" she demanded, throwing her hands in the air. "The rules don't say that you can't stack all the ships on top of each other."

Hal raised his eyebrows. "I'm pretty sure that goes without saying?"

"Does it though?"

The pair of them were distracted when a loud noise exploded from the tent. It was Pope—of course it was Pope—reiterating all the reasons why she and Tom shouldn't be allowed to stay. Evelyn shifted uncomfortably in her seat and stared intently at her cards.

"Just ignore him," Hal said quietly, kicking her gently under the table. "Everybody else does." But Evelyn could tell that his nonchalance was all bullshit. There was a tension in the way Hal was moving these days—he was on edge. They all were, really, with Ben and Jimmy and his worries about his dad…..Hal had a temper, and that temper could make him do some really stupid things. She had seen him lose it before when he attacked Ben that time, and the short, jerky movements he was making now were reminding her a lot of his behavior that day.

Evelyn pressed her lips together and nodded. "You got any threes?"

"You're insecurities aren't going to make me forget that it's my turn," Hal said through a smirk. "And I guess now I'm going to ask you for some threes."

Before Evelyn could come up with another snarky quip, there was another explosion of noise as Pope stormed out of the tent. His face was set in an angry scowl, but when his eyes fell on her it broke out into a smile that was more sinister than usual with the split lip he had earned. He swaggered towards them taking angry, hostile steps. "Well, Hot Lips, I guess you got what you wanted," he said through a sneer. "The last line in the defense of sanity is blowing this joint. Now you, Papa Mason, and the freak can have the Second Mass all to yourselves to hand over to the skitters. I give it about two weeks till you're all a pile of burning ash."

Hal threw himself to his feet, knocking his chair over behind him. "You shut your mouth or I break it."

Pope started to laugh, making Hal seethe even more, so Evelyn stood up and put a steadying hand on his shoulder. "It's not worth it," she whispered quietly. "He's had enough for one day, and he's leaving anyway. Isn't that right Pope?"

Hal's jaw continued to twitch, but the fist his hand had balled up into unclenched. Pope's smirk widened. "So very well trained," he laughed, banging his shoulder into Hal's as he pushed past them. "It's only going to end badly, Young Mason," he yelled over his shoulder. "Mark my words!"

"I'd say good riddance," Evelyn shouted back, "but it would feel too much like a goodbye. And you don't deserve a goodbye."

In response Pope just lifted an arm in the air to make a prominent display of his middle finger.

Evelyn felt Hal's shoulders tighten under her hand again. He let out an angry scream and swung his fist hard into the metal of a nearby car. He moved to hit it again, but Evelyn grabbed hold of his arm and held it firmly. Hal turned back to look at her, anger blazing in his eyes and his chest heaving up and down as he took in sharp breaths.

"Breaking all the bones in your hand isn't going to fix our problems," she whispered. "You might want to rethink going three rounds with a truck. You're probably not going to win." Hal's jaw twitched some more, but he nodded in understanding. "Besides," Evelyn continued, putting an arm around his shoulders, "we've got a funeral to attend."

Jimmy's funeral wasn't what the boy had deserved, but it was all that they had to give him. Just people who cared about him standing there in the setting sun, waiting to say goodbye. And she knew that he would have thought it enough. He had always been generous that way. She stood there in the front, between Hal and Maggie, hands folded together in something that came eerily close to prayer. Evelyn shut her eyes as she saw the body lowered into that pit Weaver had dug. There was a sort of finality to it that she couldn't bear to watch.

Evelyn's eyes were still closed when Weaver began to speak, and she forced them open again.

"How do you measure somebody?" he began. "How do you define their worth? A year ago Jimmy was just a boy. Just a little boy. And then it all changed. The world fell apart and he had to step up. He had to leave that little boy behind—he had to become a soldier, he had to learn how to fight. And he did. And he is now defined by those of us who owe him our lives. He is measured by his bravery."

Weaver's voice cracked slightly, and the sound made Evelyn's throat feel like it was closing up. A warm hand worked its way into her cold one and squeezed tight. She looked up to see Hal giving her a look of steely determination. Her lips twitched in attempt to form a reassuring smile, but they couldn't quite make it.

"This day came too soon," Weaver continued, his voice still rough and low. "He died too young. But he died a hero to me. And I am proud to have served with him. Jimmy, we'll remember. May the next world be kinder to Jimmy than this one ever was." Weaver leaned down and picked up a handful of dirt, tossing it over the red fabric that wrapped Jimmy's body. The last act of farewell.

Hal leaned away from her, moving closer to Ben. Evelyn continued to stare forwards, unwilling to intrude upon their private moment. She released Hal's hand and walked towards Weaver, taking her own handful of dirt. But even across the clearing she could hear Hal whisper, "We'll make it through this." And then they stepped forwards to grab some dirt as well.

One by one, everybody who was there made there way to the front to say goodbye, but Hal and Ben stayed rooted in their spot next to the grave. She wrapped her arms around her waist and stood there opposite them and waited till the last of the others had left. Then she turned to leave as well, giving Hal's hand a squeeze as she passed him by.

As she walked away from the grave, Evelyn let the first few tears fall from her eyes, but she wiped them away hastily before she got back to everyone else. Everything was happening all at once. Pope was gone. Anthony had gone with him without so much as a goodbye. Jimmy was dead. The images of all the people leaving kept repeating themselves in her head like pictures in a kaleidoscope for hours as she helped Anne finish packing the medical bus. Everything was in flux, and they had to bend with the changes.

They couldn't stand still any more. It was time for them to move on. It was time for them to keep fighting.

They were going to Charleston.

**OK, I hope you liked it. There was just so much going on in this episode that I had trouble keeping it all straight. I feel like I have issues with time progression and all that, so if it seems confusing, tell me and I'll try to fix it.**

**I hope you liked Pope's exit. It was abrupt, but I think it fit him well enough.  
**

**Oh, and I know that the chapters have been kind of depressing lately, but the first few eps of season 2 are pretty much a grab-bag of sad. I think it will be lightening up in the next few chapters.  
**

**Please review! They make me happy and kill skitters, so really it's a public service.**


	18. Party Bus

**Sorry this took me so long, but I've been really, really busy. I hope you like it. I'm trying to introduce a new OC, and I'm not sure how that came across. I'm thinking about modifying the chapter and would appreciate any advice. I'm a little exhausted with it and feel like I have to move on.**

**A big thank you to Izzy-I.R.T, MySoxRockXD, Katie, and Niamh O'Mahony for reviewing.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not have and scruffy little beard. Therefore I am not Steven Spielberg and do not own 'Falling Skies'. Any familiar dialogue is taken from the show.**

**Photos of OCs, soundtracks, are on my profile.**

Chapter 17 – Party Bus

"What are they doing?"

Evelyn gritted her teeth and rolled her eyes heavily at Hal's question. He had asked it so many times now, it didn't sound like a real sentence anymore. It was just a bunch of jumbled up syllables that had no cogent meaning. So she opted to ignore him and peaked over the hood of the rusting blue Corvette the two of them were hiding behind. Ben was there as well, observing the scene from another burnt out car nearby, and was lucky enough to have avoided the constant stream of questions coming from Hal. She lifted the binoculars to her eyes and squinted into the eyepiece, trying to get a better look at their movements around the dusty, formerly defunct factory. One of them made its way out the freight entrance, took a sweep of the area. She grabbed the pen that she had shoved into her ponytail, leaned over the wrinkled and worn map she was carrying, and—

"OW!" she hissed as a sudden, sharp pain bloomed in her lower ribs. "What the hell was that for?"

"I said what are they doing now?" Hal whispered again.

She ripped the binocs away from her face and turned around to glare at him. "Damn it, Hal. I am getting so sick of answering that question. We all have our jobs. I survey and note activity, Ben listens for any anomalous signals, and you watch the perimeter. What exactly about that is unclear?"

"Hey, don't get pissed at me," he muttered back. "You've got the binocs and I can't see a damn thing."

"That's a good thing, Hal. It means that we're not under attack."

His eyebrows drew together in frustration and he fidgeted in that stereotypical impatient little-kid way. Hal always seemed to regress a little bit when he was tired, and none them had been sleeping all that much lately. "It doesn't change the fact that I'm bored out of my mind. The least you could do is tell me what the hell is going on."

"Look," she hissed back, "they're guarding the perimeter like they always do. They're just standing there and watching out for us. Okay? That's all they're doing. That's all they ever do—they just stand there and watch. That's what they were doing last week in Trenton. That's what they were doing when you asked me five minutes ago. So five minutes from now, when you ask me 'what are they doing?', my answer is going to be they're still just watching and they're still just standing there!"

Hal nodded silently in response, but his face bore the expression of a small child who had just been denied desert. Evelyn sighed heavily and handed him the binocs, causing that petulant frown to split into a wide grin as he repositioned himself so he could peak over the edge of the car. Evelyn on the other hand moved to face the opposite direction across the demolished street, gun at the ready in case any enemy combatants decided to rear their ugly heads.

Despite her mild frustration with Hal, Evelyn could understand his impatience. The past week or so had just been more of the same. The same mission, the same strategy, the same everything, and that could get frustrating. It was her, Hal, and Ben—the dream team as Hal called them—who had been running the majority of the outing missions as the Second Mass picked their way down the coast towards Charleston. The three of them had been working together so closely that they could almost feel each other's location—that sort of hyperawareness of your surroundings that comes from close proximity. It was like they were a single unit, moving quietly and fluidly through the streets as they mapped out the preferred roots. And one consequence of that sort of closeness was that she was beginning to be able to sense their moods. She could see it in their physicality—in the tension of their shoulders and the way they moved. And what that sense was telling her right now was that Ben was hurt and angry, and despite the jokes and levity, Hal was worried.

Evelyn fixed her eyes on the perimeter while Hal took in the same images she had already internalized.

"Did you see that steam?" Hal whispered. "The lights are on."

"Yes, Hal," she whispered back. "I do have eyes. The building's got power. But whatever they're doing it really isn't any of our concern, is it? We're trying to find a clear route, not engage the enemy."

"Thanks, mom," he quipped in response. She could almost hear Hal rolling his eyes at her in response, so she decided to shut up and keep her eyes on the perimeter. After a few more moments he turned around and leaned against the car next to her. He swore under his breath and turned to face her with a look of clear disappointment. The boyish immaturity was all gone. It rarely ever lasted very long these days. "This area's too hot," he muttered, running his hands down his face. "We've got to steer wide around this place—take another route. It's going to take at least another two days and we do not want to be stalled like this. It makes us too vulnerable." He sighed heavily and glanced over in the direction of his brother, who had that vacant yet concentrated expression he usually wore when he was 'listening in'.

Hal and Ben. The two of them had been so distant lately, but somehow Jimmy's death and Ben's reaction to it had served to bring them back together, at least for the time being. Ben was in a subtle, self-contained emotional tailspin and Hal was trying to drag him out of it. And when he wasn't trying, he was either in the middle of a mission or talking to Evelyn about trying. This time he seemed to be doing both.

"He's going to be okay, you know," she said, nudging him in the shoulder.

He offered up that charming half-smile of his, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, I know," he mumbled. "It's just these past few weeks…He's been so quiet lately. He eats by himself, he barely sleeps. It's like he's a different person. I know he misses Jimmy—I miss him too, we all do—but he's got to find a way to put it behind him."

Evelyn shook her head. "That's not the same and you know it. Jimmy was the only kid around his age that Ben actually got along with. You know he blames himself and after Amy…He's probably avoiding people out of some stupid notion that they're going to end up dead."

"Can you talk to him?" Hal asked suddenly. "I know it's not fair of me to ask but it's helped before, right? You're like the moody-teenager-whisperer or something. Who knows, he might actually listen to you."

"Perks of coming from a broken home?"

Hal just rolled his eyes at her again. "You know what I mean, Evey. You're all feminine and in touch with your emotions and shit like that. I'm sure you have some kind of speech rehearsed for this kind of thing

Evelyn nibbled her lip nervously and looked over at Ben. She knew she should probably be helping, but she was still bitter. Ben knew something, something important, something that directly impacted her, and he was refusing to tell her. She tried to be the bigger person, but she found that she couldn't quite forgive him. And she knew she couldn't get through to him—not now at least—and she was juggling too many hopeless causes to begin with.

"I don't think he will," she said quietly. "In fact I might be the last person he wants to talk to."

The two of them froze for a moment as there was the sound of a mech passing by. They held their breath and drew together until the danger had passed them by. Evelyn let out a small sigh of relief and looked up at Hal, who was looking back down at her as well.

"Thanks for being my sounding board through all of this," he said quietly. "I know I've been kind of a downer lately."

She just smiled back. "Don't worry about it. I'll always be willing to let you annoy me."

"Hey, I am not annoying," he shot back, a look of mock offense covering his face. "I'm a freaking pleasure to be around."

Evelyn responded with a widening smirk. "I think that's for the other people to judge, Hal. Not you."

"Oh, I will destroy you."

"I'd like to see you try."

In that moment it occurred to Evelyn that they had started flirting again. With everything that had happened, a lot had fallen by the wayside. Lately life had been exclusively about survival, about coping with everything they had lost. Ben wasn't the only person who was going to a tailspin—Evelyn had been very close to doing the same—but she had gotten through it, due in no small part to Hal. He had kept her together through a combination of jokes and seriousness that she couldn't imagine finding in anyone else. And now they had apparently gotten back to that point. Evelyn knew it probably wasn't the best idea to go back there, but she really couldn't help it. It was like a sort of gravitational pull that had been around for longer than she could remember. Great. Now she was starting to sound like a stalker of the Single White Female variety.

Her train of thought was cut off when Ben jogged over to them, staying low to the ground to avoid the beamers. "We should move on," he said in a low hurried voice. "We've—"

And then Ben was cut off by the sound of revving motors. The three of them spun around suddenly to see three small figures jump on their bikes and take of down the street. They got up and took off after them, but it was too late. The bikes were gone and they were left standing there, stranded, mouths open like a couple of idiots.

"Do you believe that?" Hal asked, still gaping after the thieves.

That was it. They were so unbelievably screwed right now. Evelyn shook her head in disbelief. "I think we just got car-jacked by Justin Bieber."

Hal was left looking around the general area like he expected an entire army of preteens to pour out of the trees and attack. "Where the hell did they come from?" he demanded anxiously.

Evelyn shrugged her shoulders in response. "West?"

"Try and be helpful," he shot back, jogging back to the car to pick up their packs. When he turned back to rejoin them there was a look of extreme determination on his face. "We're not going back without those bikes," he said, tossing the old, dusty backpack at Evelyn. One thing was clear. He was not going to let anything else go wrong.

Catching the bag and slinging it over he shoulder, Evelyn returned his steady gaze and nodded definitively. "Agreed."

The two of them walked over to Ben to catch his attention as well, but he had that same empty but concentrated expression on his face. Hal moved forward to confront him but Evelyn put a steadying hand on his shoulder. She knew what he was doing, and as much as it scared her, today it was going to prove useful. After a few more moments Ben blinked like he was waking up from a trance. He looked between the two of them with a slight smile of realization on his face.

"They're heading east."

Hal's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "How do you know?"

Evelyn let out a sight somewhere between relief and concern. "He can hear their engines."

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Tracking the errant youths who had stolen their bikes was unreasonably easy. It should have been a relief—they needed those bikes—but it was worrisome as well. She could see Hal shooting looks at Ben out of the corner of his eye. He was suspicious. And if he was suspicious of Ben, he might as well be suspicious of her too.

Over the past week, Evelyn had become more aware of the consequences of what had happened to her. She was somewhere between Ben and a normal person. She was stronger and faster, she could jump higher and heal more quickly, she could see farther and hear more acutely, but she was nowhere near Ben's level. It was like he was in tune with everything. She could swear that if he stood still long enough, he could feel the rotation of the earth.

The three of them slowly moved their way through the city, following the dull echo of the engines as the sound reverberated against the empty buildings. Not that Hal could really hear it. Hell, Evelyn could barely hear it. And she certainly couldn't hear well enough to pinpoint the location of the sound. So the two of them followed him, remaining entirely silent so as not to attract the attention of any skitters that might be lurking around the corner. Instead they used the universal language, pointing and making exaggerated facial expressions.

As they kept going forward, Evelyn noticed that something in the scenery was changing. While they were on the outskirts of the city, everything seemed fairly intact. Or as intact as they could be for a city that had been bombed. But as they followed Ben the scenery began to look as if it was picked clean. The overturned shelves of the supermarkets weren't surrounded by crushed cereal boxes or piles of cans, they had been picked clean. All of the observations led to a single conclusion: there were people here. There were people living there inside the city.

That idea was completely foreign to Evelyn. Ever since the invasion, she had avoided the cities unless absolutely necessary. First it was because of the bombs. After that had come the mech raids. And after that had come the part she despised the most: the looting. Cities for her were death and disease wrapped in darkness and despair. They were the place bodies had piled up and people had turned on each other, so choosing to stay in one of the cities….it was unthinkable. But as the three of them neared that rusted warehouse with its peeling plaster and broken windows, it became increasingly clear that not everyone felt that way.

Eventually the sounds that they heard got louder, and they didn't just belong to the bikes anymore. Entering the dank alleyway, taking small careful steps, and holding her gun at the ready, she could swear that she heard the youthful screams of children. Lots and lots of children. And a drum set. No, she had to be hallucinating that part. Who would be stupid enough to play the drums in a skitter-occupied city? Oh, that's right. Children would.

All of the sudden Hal held up a hand indicating for them to stop. After a short game of charades the plan was clear. He was entering through the main entrance to confront them. Ben and Evelyn were climbing the fire escape and getting a good vantage point to lend tactical support. She quickly flanked the building and swiftly and quietly made her way up the rusted stairs, carefully avoiding the broken glass that littered the steps. When she ducked in the window that led to the rafters, she couldn't believe what she saw inside.

The warehouse was littered with loot. Bikes, a pinball machine, bean bag chairs, and what looked like a late Victorian era chaise were sprawled over the interior. It was some weird combination of The Princess Diaries and Lord of the Flies. Evelyn shook her head shaking off the bizarre scene in front of her and moved into position. She hated the fact that she was aiming at a group that had a mean age of twelve, but they needed those bikes.

Soon enough she saw Hal's shadow enter the building. He slammed his hand against the metal doors three times before walking in with his hands raised in the air. It took under a second for every person in that room to point a gun and him, causing Evelyn's hands to reflexively tighten around hers. She was feeling less sympathetic to them now.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Hal said in a steady, conciliatory tone. "I just want to talk about the bikes."

One of the kids—a young, Hispanic teenager who appeared to be the leader—took several angry steps towards Hal, pointing the gun straight at his head. Evelyn felt her breath hitch and her stomach clench. She didn't like this plan. She didn't like it one bit.

"Fifteen to one? There's nothing to talk about," the leader said through a sneer. Then he muttered something in Spanish that made Evelyn regret taking French in high school. "Now get the hell out." That last bit was clear enough.

Even at that distance, she could see the tensing in Hal's shoulders. He didn't like being threatened, especially not by people. Being with the Second Mass all this time he had come to expect a sort of solidarity among humans. After her time on her own, Evelyn wasn't quite so naïve.

"I'd back off if I were you," Hal responded in a low, dangerous voice.

The leader just smirked back. "Yeah? Why's that?"

She and Ben took that as their cue to cock their guns, making themselves known. As the kids looked up to see the two of them there, the cocky smirks fell from their faces as quickly as they had formed.

"Now if they don't stand down in five seconds," Hal continued, lowering his hands "you die."

"One."

Nobody moved.

"Two."

Evelyn saw one or two of the younger kids waver, but they all kept their guns pointed at Hal. She readjusted hers against her shoulder and took aim.

"Three."

The sick feeling in Evelyn's stomach began to grow.

"Four."

There was a sudden loud banging noise from behind Hal that drew Evelyn's attention away from the high noon testosterone-induced standoff that was unfolding. Her head snapped around to see another shadowy figure entering the building, walking over to Hal, but this one was different. Instead of cautious steps like Hal had taken, this one had a more swaggering cadence to it.

"Hey, Diego," called out a voice with a thick Southern accent, "Cómo se dice 'you're an idiot'? Compared with those automatic rifles these guys are holdin' you might as well be fightin' with sharp sticks and harsh language."

The countdown had stopped, but her stomach continued to flip. The voice sounded familiar. Really familiar. But it couldn't be who she thought it was. He had been at the epicenter of the first blasts in Boston. He was dead. Long dead. She must be hallucinating, that was the only viable option here.

The figure continued to step forward until he came in line with Hal, enough in her line of vision for her to see that he was tall, at least six feet, and had a mess of sandy blonde hair. More similarities, but it was all coincidence. It had to be. Whoever it was—not him—they clapped a hand on Hal's shoulder and let out a theatrical sigh.

"Now what seems to be the problem here?"

"They're here about the bikes, jefe," the one named Diego said, still holding his gun at Hal.

"Put the goddamn gun down, Diego," the voice said in a frustrated tone. "You look like an idiot." Diego flushed a bit and lowered the gun. "Now I hope that y'all will have the courtesy to do the same."

Hal nodded and gave the signal. Evelyn and Ben both loosened their hold on the guns

"Very good," the voice continued. "Now I'd like to know _why_ they are here about the guns. I was under the impression you picked them up from an old salvage yard."

Diego paused a moment before opening his mouth. "Well—"

"I wasn't askin' you," the blonde said, turning a bit towards Hal. "I'm askin' you."

Hal shifted on his feet and cleared his throat a bit. "We were running a scouting mission. Before we know it there are a couple of kids riding off with our bikes. Now that's all we came for. There doesn't need to be a problem here."

"The way I see it, there already is a problem here. Now what's rule one of this here establishment. Anybody?" The question was met with dead silence and ashamed glances. "Since y'all are clearly sufferin' from some sort of temporary amnesia, I guess I'll have to remind you. Rule one of this establishment is: 'You can do whatever you want to a man, but do not fuck with his Cadillac'."

Evelyn froze. There was only one person she had ever heard say that phrase, the one who had taught to her in the first place. It actually was him. The big brother who had dragged her kicking and screaming through those years of college. She let out a laugh and dropped the gun entirely, slinging it over her shoulder instead.

"Steely O'Neely?"

The man spun around to look at her. His hair was longer, his face thinner and dirtier, and he had grown a beard since the last time they had met, but it was him. Ian O'Neely. When he caught sight of her his face split into that big toothy grin, a grin that she knew well. At least some things hadn't changed.

His characteristic booming laugh echoed throughout the warehouse. "Jesus fucking Christ! Do my eyes deceive or is that Twinkle Toes Walsh? How the hell are you still alive?"

Same could be asked of you, man," she said excitedly. "I thought you were in the middle of the blast zone on D-Day. I was sure you were a goner."

Ian let out another laugh and threw his arms open wide. "Are you kiddin', Carrot Top? There ain't no evil alien bastard that can take me out."

"That's a double negative."

"You shut your mouth."

Evelyn quickly descended the stairs and hopped the railing, making a beeline towards the crazy Southerner and enveloped him in a giant hug, standing on the tips of her toes so she could wrap her arms around his neck. "I'm glad you're not dead."

"Likewise, squirt. Likewise."

A few moments later, Evelyn heard Hal clear his throat, making her quickly release her old friend and take a few steps away. Ian laughed again and folded his arms across his chest. "Damn, squirt, whatever happened to your manners. The way I see it you're the one here who should be makin' the introductions."

"Right," she said nodding awkwardly. "Right, sorry. Hal, this is Ian. We went to Boston University together. Ian this is Hal and that ghost up there is his brother Ben."

"Hal?" Ian asked, raising his eyebrows quizzically. "Hal Mason?"

"Yeah?"

Ian let out a low whistle that made Evelyn cringe. "I've heard a lot about you, man," he said holding out his hand.

Hal looked at the hand suspiciously before taking it. "That's interesting, because I haven't heard a thing about you."

"What! Come on now, squirt that's just hurtful," Ian said to her throwing a hand over his heart dramatically. "I'd like to think that my colorful personality and youthful charm make me a prime piece of conversation." He leaned closer to Evelyn, a conspiratorial look on his face that made her wince. "I have to say," he whispered loudly, "I thought he would be taller."

Evelyn flinched again at the not-so-subtle dig at her all too well publicized crush. Through university Ian had been her confidant, and he knew all about her massive, crazy crush, and now he was going to go all big-brother. The protective kind that tended to embarrass as much as it did protect. This was going to be brutal. Mortifying and brutal. It was going to be a verbal massacre of her dignity. She needed an out. There was the window she had entered from, a back door she had seen on her way in, and—

To her surprise it was trigger-happy Diego that provided her with a reprieve when he had a sudden outburst of rapid, authoritative Spanish. Which, in Evelyn's experience, was one of the most effective ways of making other people shut up.

"Enough with the soap opera!" he shouted. "We need those bikes."

There was a tense silence that followed the declaration. Ian's jaw started twitching and his face darkened. They did need those bikes, that fact was written all over his face, but Ian was never one to profit at the expense of others. Evelyn turned to face Hal to say—well she didn't know quite what, but instead found him looking at all the scrawny bodies and drawn faces of the kids scattered throughout the room. He took a few steps towards Ian and leveled him with a serious stare. "It's just you guys here? No adults?"

"We don't need them," a small boy in the back shouted. "Adults get you killed."

"We take care of each other," another girl said.

Hal turned back to Ian who just shrugged his shoulders. "I do what I can," Ian said quietly. "We ain't got a lot of options here, you know? All we can do is survive, and we've been doin' a decent job of that so far."

Hal nodded slowly, his eyebrows drawn together in thought. He stepped closer to Ian. "Our people are camped out not far from here," he said in a low voice. "We might be able to spare some extra bike parts. At the very least some food and water. You all look like you could use a good meal. No offense."

Ian pressed his lips together in a solemn smile. "None taken, man. None taken." He turned around to face the rest of his group. "Hillary, Shaun, Jeanne, Julian, and Rob—you guys'll come with me. Diego, you and the rest of them hold down the fort. And try not to rob anybody please. It reflects poorly on me as a leader." He took several determined strides forward, but everyone else stood rooted in place. When he realized nobody was following him, he spun around on his heels and looked at them all with an expectant expression. "Come on people! Chop, chop! We're burning daylight here, now move your asses to the party bus!"

"It's a freaking Winnebago!" a voice shouted.

"Shut up, Diego!" Ian responded. "It's all in the marketing! You're ruinin' the appeal."

She, Hal, and Ben stared after the retreating figure. Evelyn sighed heavily and scratched the back of her neck. "Well, he hasn't changed a bit."

Hal turned to look at her with a curious expression on his face. "Where did you say you met him?"

Evelyn turned and blinked at him. "Organic chemistry."

The rest of them trailed out the door after Ian, and Evelyn, despite how happy she was to see her old friend again, couldn't help but feel like he would be bringing a whole heap of trouble with him. He usually did.

**So there's chapter 17. I hope you liked it, because I'm not sure. Don't worry about there being a love triangle. Ian is a brother figure to her, and she's just happy to have him back because she thought he was dead. Also, I'm including him for there to be some Hal jealousy to bring the romantic tension to a head in episode 5.**

**Oh, and to Niamh O'Mahony, I did make a subtle Dr. Cox of Scrubs reference. I never really watched Scrubs so I googled quotes and found one that said 'you finally found someone willing to let you annoy them' so I tried to adapt it.  
**

**And I hope you liked Ian. You'll get more of his story and how they know each other in the next chapter.**

**There is a link to a pic of Ian on my profile!**

**Anyway, please review. It feeds the muse and inspires me to write. And it kills skitters, so review!**


	19. Small Miracles

**I'm so sorry this took so long. I've been working on another fic, and I've also been suffering from a bit of writer's block on this one as well. Hope you like it. It's a bit dark, but hopefully I threw in enough humor to balance it out.**

**Thank you to Izzy-I.R.T, LucyRider17, MoonlitSorrows, .32, and Guest for reviewing.  
**

**And a huge, HUGE thank you to LMScatterbrain for helping me through this chapter. I owe you big time.  
**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not have and scruffy little beard. Therefore I am not Steven Spielberg and do not own 'Falling Skies'. Any familiar dialogue is taken from the show.**

**Photos of OCs, soundtracks, are on my profile.**

Chapter 18 – Small Miracles

That day was a day of small miracles. It was the only way Evelyn could really think to describe it. Not that she believed in miracles. Or fate. Or Ouija boards and psychic crystals. She believed what she could see and what she could touch, she believed in empirical fact, but the words 'chance' and 'coincidence' just didn't seem enough for what was going on here. They were too trivial, too clinical. It wasn't enough to really convey the things being felt by her and the people around her. It was a small miracle. At least that was how it felt to her.

Finding Ian after being so certain that he was dead—that was amazing enough. But then they had gotten back to the rest of the Second Mass. They got back to the Second Mass and that girl Jeanne sprinted in front of the rest of them and threw her arms around Captain Weaver. In that moment, Evelyn decided that was the most beautiful thing in the world—seeing a family reunited. Even through the tears and puffy, red eyes, and snot, there's something that manages to shine through all of that. Evelyn could see the kind of love that bound parent and child, the kind that's supposed to be there but isn't always, and she couldn't help but feel a little bit jealous. Watching them was like watching a supernova. A beauty so blinding it made you ache inside. After a few moments she had to turn away, trying hard to choke back the feeling of emptiness that sometimes ate at her when she saw families like that, and scurried off.

That's how she ended up in that mess tent with Hal, Ian, and Maggie. She had gone there to stuff her face, deciding to refer to it as 'filling the void'. 'Eating her feelings' just sounded far too pathetic. And she had initially gone there to be alone—usually she wanted to be alone when she felt that gnawing hole inside—but before there hadn't really been anyone she felt close enough to for her to seek them out. But things were different for her now. That much was made clear when Ian dropped into the seat opposite her, clapping a hand on her shoulder. Then Maggie had taken a seat as well. Neither of them seemed to have any family either, at least not in the normal sense. And then Hal had entered as well, waving to indicate that he would be over in a second.

In that moment it occurred to her that maybe she actually did have a family. It just came in a different package than everybody else's. That thought had entered her mind more than once, but she just seemed to keep forgetting. She was so used to being alone, her brain seemed to default to that every time something bad happened. After everything that happened on the ship and then with Pope, she felt like she had been broken down into tiny, tiny shards of herself. Now she was putting them back together like some ridiculous puzzle. Start with the corners, and then build inward. That was what she was doing, she was building inwards. Maybe this time it wouldn't default back to loneliness. Maybe this time things would stay good.

"So how long were you guys out there?" Maggie asked, looking poignantly at Ian. "You and all those kids?"

A sly sort of half-smile slowly spread across Ian's face. Evelyn groaned and slammed her head hard against the table. She knew where this was going, and while it would be entertaining to watch, it would be pretty painful as well. Usually that face happened when he was around cheerleaders or sorority chicks, and Maggie was nowhere near either of those things. She was the girl who sat behind the bleachers smoking pot and making fun of those things.

"Can't say actually. We didn't exactly have an official time keepin' system or anythin' like that. My guess would be about…three, four months in that." He groaned loudly and stretched his arms in the air, slowly bringing one around so that it rested on the back of Maggie's chair. "It's not like I keep track anyway," he said, voice dripping in swagger. "I do it for the kids."

"Do you want to keep your arm?" Maggie said in her usual low, vaguely threatening voice.

"Alrighty then," Ian said in a higher octave, removing his arm just as quickly as he had put it there.

"Here you go," Hal muttered slightly angrily, slamming a plate of food in front of Ian with much more force than necessary before sitting down next to Evelyn. She could feel a tension in the way that he moved and spoke, but she couldn't for the life of her understand why.

Ian flashed his wide toothy grin, seemingly ignorant of the fairly blatant hostility oozing out of each of Hal's pores. "Oh man," he said grinning at the pile of still-steaming beans and rice before turning back to Hal. "Dude, I mean this in the manliest way possible, but I think I love you."

"Keep it in your pants, Ian," Evelyn said, flicking some of her beans at him. "You have a chance for a new start. Don't get that same reputation you did in college. You were so much better than that—I'd really hate to see you go down the same road twice."

"Look at you tryin' to protect my honor," he said, flicking some beans at her as well. "I'm flattered, Eve, but you should know by now that I'm a lost cause."

"Alright, I'm a little lost here," Maggie broke in, holding her hands up to make them all stop talking. "How do the two of you know each other? I've known Evelyn here since she was fourteen and I haven't heard a fucking word abo—"

"Yeah," Hal almost spat, looking seriously at Ian. "We're all on pins and needles here."

Evelyn closed her hand into a tight fist. Letting her fingernails dig into the skin of her palm. She really didn't understand what was going on here—why Hal was behaving the way he was. Ian could only help them. He knew the area much better than anybody from the Second Mass did. At this point he was an invaluable resource, but Hal was looking at him like he was trying to light him on fire with his brain. It made Evelyn uncomfortable, but it seemed to make Ian absolutely giddy. There was just too much testosterone in the camp for that. She would have hoped that Pope leaving would have caused a deficit in that particular hormone, but apparently Ian was more than compensating. Or maybe he was overcompensating.

"Again, Eve, I'm insulted!" Ian exclaimed in false indignation. "I'm as close to a Greek god as this world has ever seen. Why have I not been discussed before?"

"Maybe I didn't think that you were worth mentioning," Evelyn muttered, raising her eyebrows at him and theatrically taking a bite of her food in front of her.

"Pshah!" he scoffed, rolling his eyes heavily. "You were afraid they'd like me better is all." He cleared his throat and placed both his hands palms down on the Crappy old card table like he always did when he was about to start a story. Evelyn sighed heavily and laid her head on the table, preparing herself for the inevitable embarrassment and frustration.

"Ignore her," Ian rambled on, waving his hand dismissively. "I always do. Anyways, the two of us had organic chemistry together last year. I was havin' a bit of a bad time of it seein' as I had to keep goin' with the soccer most of the time so I could keep my scholarship. Braniac over there tutored me for a bit," he said, punching her lightly in the shoulder. Evelyn stuck her tongue out at him in response. Something about Ian always made her less mature. He just patted her on the head in the most patronizing way possible and kept talking. "So we spent a bit of time together, got acquainted, and that was that."

"Of course you play soccer," Hal mumbled under his breath derisively, earning him an elbow to the gut from Evelyn. She didn't understand the hostility. She would have thought that Hal and Ian would have gotten along well—great even. They were so similar in some ways, she could have imagined a fairly heavy bromance developing between the two of them, but at this point the only hug between them that seemed plausible was one where Hal was strangling Ian. Evelyn took a long drink of water, pretending that it was something much, much stronger.

"So, Ian," Evelyn interrupted in a voice that was probably louder than necessary, "how did you survive D-day? I mean, you were living in the dorms right? That was right at the center of the explosion. How did you get out?"

Ian's face visibly darkened—there was a shadow behind his eyes that belonged to someone who had seen too much. It was the same kind of look that Evelyn had seen on the faces of veterans of World War Two or Vietnam in all those documentaries on TV. It was the same look she saw on Max's face on more than one occasion. A lot of people had that look about them these days, but on Ian's face it was different. That ridiculous smile was always on his face, so seeing him with that expression just made everything feel more broken.

Ian cleared his throat and started drumming his fingers on the table. "I wasn't in the dorms that day," he said in a dull sort of voice. He let out a low groan and ran his hands down his face. "I was at Massachusetts General Hospital. Blew out my knee in that last game."

"Shit, O'Neely," Evelyn murmured, "why didn't you tell—?"

"I didn't tell you 'cause you were goin' to go all 'mom' on me," he said, waving a finger in her direction. "You'd start makin' industrial-sized vats of tea and soup an' all that shit. No thank you." He sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair, placing his hands behind his head. "Who would've fuckin' thought that the end of my career would save my life? After that I started headin' down to Mississippi to look for my folks. On the way I found Julian and then Hillary. At first I was gonna bring 'em with me, but there were more and more of them—"

"You always were one for picking up strays," she said with a slight smile.

Ian shoveled some more food in his mouth and nodded in agreement. "Yup," he said through a mouth of food. "I met a guy movin' north who said that Mississippi was blown off the map, so that but a bit of a halt on those plans. And that didn't really matter 'cause soon enough there were more kids than bikes to carry 'em, so we kinda got stuck in place. I've been tryin' to get enough crap together to blow that joint, but we've been kinda down on our luck lately. Some of the kids caught the flu a few weeks back. Damn near destroyed us."

Evelyn pursed her lips and nodded slowly. It was so easy for things to fall apart. One malfunctioning piece of machinery, one runny nose, and an entire operation could fall apart. It really was as simple as that. Evelyn looked around at the other people at the table. Maggie looked sympathetic and Hal looked…slightly less hostile. He still had a suspicious look about him, though. Like he didn't quite trust him still. Ian didn't seem to mind all that much, though. He was immune to it. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it a little bit.

"Sooooooooo," Ian drew out slowly, looking poignantly at all of them and reinforcing the awkwardness of the silence, "I haven't slept in like four months. Is there anywhere I could pass out or something? It'd be the first night in fuckin' ever that a kid didn't trip over me on the way to the bathroom."

"Sure thing, man," Evelyn said punching Ian in the shoulder for what felt like the twentieth time. "We can get a cot set up for you. You can bunk with me and Maggie for the night—" Suddenly Hal started coughing and spluttering into his plate, making Evelyn suddenly stop talking and looking at him. He looked a bit freaked out. She patted him on the back and cleared her throat a bit before continuing. "That is if it's okay with Maggie of course."

"I don't see a problem," Maggie said with a weird sort of smirk on her face. It was a knowing look, and it was driving Evelyn a little bit insane. She stood up and patted Ian lightly on the shoulder. "Come on, I'll show you where to set up. Let's leave these two idiots to themselves."

She took a few steps away, shooting that same annoying glance over her shoulder as she went. Ian on the other hand started shoveling the remainder of the food on his plate into his mouth. "Well ladies and gents," he mumbled, "in my experience when an attractive blonde tells you to do something, you do it."

Evelyn snorted. "You do realize that she will actually kill you if she hears you say something like that."

"Yeah?" he said, scrambling to his feet, "well I just think that's hot." He stood up and stretched, letting out a loud groan. "Alright, I'm off for some shut-eye. Squirt, stay frosty. Hal, stay weird."

He clapped his hands and rubbed them together eagerly before jogging off after Maggie, dodging between the people milling about, randomly high-fiving a few of them. Evelyn watched him go. Even through all of this shit he still have that same child-like enthusiasm for absolutely everything. Once he disappeared into the crowd, Evelyn rounded on Hal, smacking him hard in the chest.

"What the hell was that?" she hissed angrily. "Seriously, Hal. Is it your time of the month or something?"

"I don't see any need to be sexist," he muttered darkly.

"Shut the hell up, Hal!" she said, smacking him again. "You've been acting like a complete ass-hat!"

Hal bit at the inside of his cheek and shrugged his shoulders. "I just don't like the guy."

Evelyn rubbed at her forehead, trying to get rid of the headache that was forming. "Don't be stupid, Hal! Ian's a good guy. Everybody likes him."

Hal let out a derisive laugh. "Well clearly that's not the case. I mean, he plays _soccer_. A bit pretentious, don't you think?"

Evelyn stared at him, gaping a bit in disbelief. "You're kidding, right? Hal, you play lacrosse. That's like soccer with props."

Hal shot an angry glare at her, but opted to ignore the dig. "And he's cocky."

Evelyn slammed her fist into her forehead in frustration. "You can't be serious. That's not even the pot calling the kettle black. That's the pot calling the kettle a pot. Why are you acting like this?"

Hal sighed heavily and stared intensely at the table. "It's just—who the fuck is this guy? He shows up out of nowhere and you know each other so well and—how do we know we can trust him? Why do you trust him?"

"He saved my life, okay?"

Hal suddenly looked up from the table, his eyes snapping to hers. Evelyn groaned and ran her hands through her hair. "I was in the library one night studying, and I had a seizure or something because next thing I know I'm in the hospital and the guy I'm tutoring in organic chemistry is sitting next to the hospital bed I'm in. Turns out his little brother has—had—epilepsy. Anyways, that sort of thing just….makes friends out of people, you know?"

"So he knows," Hal said quietly, "about the….." He let the statement trail off, not willing to actually say the words out loud. There was a sort of unspoken agreement between them. They wouldn't talk about it, the dying thing. Not explicitly anyway.

Evelyn nodded shortly. "Yeah. He drove me to my last surgery. Mom couldn't be bothered, so I called him."

Hal swore under his breath and took a long drink of water. "You're right," he said in a tone that sounded more than a little bit bitter. "Sounds like a great guy. If he wasn't here I'm sure he would be busy rescuing kittens from trees. He definitely had your back. At least someone did back then. He sounds like a freaking saint, keeping all those kids half starved in the middle of a skitter-infested city."

Evelyn stared at him for a moment. He seemed, sort of…sad. Sad and angry. He was sulking and be was broody. And for some reason that really, _really_ pissed her off. Like a seething hot rage level of pissed off. She sat there completely frozen for a few moments, clenching her fist so the nails dug into the flesh of her palm. So she slapped him upside the head.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Hal?" she demanded, ignoring his protestations and hitting him again. "I—I just don't get it. It's not like anything's changing here. You're still my partner. We still watch each other's backs. And if it comes down to it, I'll back you. Every time. Unless you're being an idiot, which, let's face it, isn't exactly unheard of. Now, for instance."

Hal stared back at her without saying a word, but something in his expression changed. There was an almost imperceptible change in Hal's posture. His shoulders sagged a bit, losing the tension that had been in his shoulders ever since they had gotten back, like something she had just said had calmed him down of something. Evelyn looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something—anything—but nothing came. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, trying to fight the frustration, but it wasn't working. She drove her hands into her hair and pulled at it, letting out a quiet scream before storming off herself.

Evelyn made her way back to the tent stomping her feet like a petulant child. The mud was squelching under her boots so that each time her foot made contact with the ground, and it kind of held onto her boots, forcing her to yank her feet up with each step. It made the entire thing more satisfying—storming off. It felt more definitive that way. By the time she got back to her tent, some of the anger had petered out. She was still pissed as hell at Hal, but she wasn't vibrating with anger anymore. She didn't know why, but that boy could get under her skin more than anyone else she knew.

Sighing heavily, Evelyn plopped down on her bed and wrenched off her now muddy boots before collapsing backwards on the cot. She grabbed hold of her musty, dirty pillow and covered her face, screaming into it. And then she just lay there, listening to Maggie's snores. That girl really could fall asleep anywhere and everywhere. Evelyn just let the sound wash over her and lull her into a calmer state of mind. That constant and even progression of sound almost had the cadence of waves crashing on a beach. That's where she sent her mind. She was on a beach reading a good book—Pride and Prejudice, of course. Her hair was clean too, she had washed out all the oil and dirt that collected there while she went for a swim in the ocean. And there was glass of cold something-or-other and she could watch the small beads of condensation run down the side and—

"Trouble in paradise," she head a muffled voice say. She pulled back the pillow and exhaled sharply in frustration. Fantasy shattered. Dream destroyed. Turning on her side she saw Ian looking at her, eyebrows raised with a vaguely amused expression on his face.

"I thought you were going to sleep."

"Now how could I sleep with all this drama flyin' around," he whispered loudly, waving his hands about. "It's like I'm in the middle of a post-apocalyptic soap opera! All that's missin' is an evil twin."

Evelyn groaned and turned to look at the ceiling of the tent. "You are my evil twin, Ian," she mumbled. "I really don't need you to analyze my life right now."

"Ouch," he said, theatrically placing a hand over his heart. "Words hurt, squirt."

"Never seemed to stop you before."

"Nope," he replied, popping the 'p'.

Evelyn sighed and rolled over so she was facing him again. "I'm sorry about Hal," she mumbled. "He's usually not that much of a dick."

"I don't know," Ian said in a light voice. "I kind of liked 'im."

Evelyn looked at him like he was insane. "Seriously? He was really fucking terrible today."

"Yeah, well I'm focusin' on the 'why' he was actin' that way more than the 'how' he was actin'. I really approve of the 'why'. It's adorable, really. And I could understand how he'd be threatened by all this good stuff," he said, gesturing to himself. Then he gave Evelyn a knowing look, which she returned with a blank stare. Ian rolled his eyes and swore under his breath. "You for someone who's so smart, you really can be a fuckin' idiot. He's got it bad for you, squirt."

Evelyn bit her lip and shifted uncomfortably in her bed and stared intently at the ceiling. "Hal and I are friends," she said in a rehearsed sort of tone. "We're partners. We—we look out for each other. That's it."

Ian let out a low whistle. "You are seriously self-deluding or whatever. It is so fuckin' obvious. Then what's the holdup? This is the Hal you gushed about like a school girl who doodles his name on binders and that kind of shit, isn't it?"

"It's more complicated than that and you know it."

Ian let out a derisive snort. "No. No it's fuckin' not. I really don't understand you, Eve. Ever since I met you it's like—it's like you won't ever let yourself be happy. It's like you sit on the sidelines waitin' for the opportunity to play, but the second you get tapped in, you just freak out and run off. Shit. You're parents must've done a real number on you." He exhaled sharply and shook his head in disbelief. "I'm goin' to sleep. Talk more in the mornin'."

She probably should have been pissed at him for saying that, but she couldn't make herself be. He was right. She knew he was right. She was afraid. She was freaking terrified. If anybody realized how scary and damaged she actually was, they would go sprinting away from her as quickly as possible. Letting people in wasn't something she was good at. It wasn't something she had ever managed to actually do. She wanted to—she really did—but every time she tried she felt this overwhelming sense of guilt. Getting close to her was like boarding the Titanic. She was going to go down in flames and the fire was going to swallow up anyone around her.

Evelyn rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. What she needed right now was sleep. To sleep and to think. But then again the thinking was part of the problem, wasn't it? She just could never shut her brain up. It kept running around in circles like one of those sad little greyhounds chasing that rabbit in the races her mom used to drag her too so she would have an excuse to wear one of her ridiculously huge hats. And just like with those poor, pathetic dogs, there was never any payoff. They never caught the rabbit, and it wasn't even a real a real fucking rabbit. She never got anything from the mental calisthenics. They just made her feel dizzy and a little bit sick. It all came down to one thing: there was definitely something very wrong with her.

"Psst! Squirt!"

"I thought you were going to sleep, Ian."

"Yeah, it's just….Maggie. What's her deal?"

"She'd eat you alive," Evelyn muttered back. "Seriously, at your own peril, man. And if you piss her off, she's really good at shooting things."

There was a short pause. "Nice."

**So there it is. Hope you liked it and hopefully the next chapter will come out faster than this one did.**

**Please, please review and tell me what you think. Reviews are love. And they kill skitters, so...  
**


	20. Conspiracy Theory

**I'm so so sorry again. Still suffering from serious writer's block on this story. I'm trying, I really am, but I've been struggling with it, and I'm busy and all that. I hope this chapter came out okay. It's kind of fluffy, but there's some content as well, a little bit of backstory, and some progression.**

**Thank you to MScatterbrain, LucyRider17, Ophelia Nation, and Niamh O'Mahony for reviewing.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not have and scruffy little beard. Therefore I am not Steven Spielberg and do not own 'Falling Skies'. Any familiar dialogue is taken from the show.**

**Photos of OCs, soundtracks, are on my profile.**

**Full disclosure, this chapter might be absolute crap. I know it's not my best...I'm sorry, but I'm really not in the right mindset for this story. I tried and that's the best I could do so...here you go.  
**

Chapter 19 – Conspiracy Theory

They were conspiring against her. That was the only plausible explanation for what was going on right now. It had to be some sort of cruel, inexplicable, intricately designed conspiracy complete with cover-ups and misinformation and probably spies as well. Maybe Maggie was in on it. She and Ian seemed pretty cozy earlier. Why else would the two of them be getting along so swimmingly? Of all the examples and all the alternatives running through Evelyn's mind, that was the only one that seemed truly plausible to her. That was the only explanation for Hal and Ian's behavior. It was a conspiracy—a prank. It was actually surprising to her that it had taken Ian this long to get around to it, the pranks. But then again she had woken up that morning to find one hand soaking in a giant bowl of water and the other filled with a giant glop of foamy shaving cream, so maybe her timetable was thrown off a little by the whole lack of consciousness thing.

In retrospect she should have expected the hand in the bowl of water—she blamed that on his goddamn frat-boy mentality and middle school sense of humor—but that was as far as Evelyn had expected it to go. Sure she had grumbled a bit, but she was used to Ian's antics by now. She just wiped her hands off on her pants and went on with her day. First there was breakfast with Cecelia and Marjorie—two whole hours stopping herself from cursing. Then Max debriefed her as to the previous day's mission, seeing as Weaver was still busy reveling in the rediscovery of his daughter. By the time she found Hal and Ian again, it was well past noon. If she was being honest she was avoiding the both of them. Though pretty much everything about her general behavior suggested otherwise, she hated conflict when it meant choosing between two people she cared about. When it came down to it her choice was already made of course, but she would rather not be brought to that point. But, as it turned out, she really didn't need to.

"What the fuck?"

The words involuntarily spilled out of Evelyn's, despite the small tribe of minors playing soccer right next to her. Hal and Ian were sitting at one of those crappy old card tables, leaning over piles of worn and creased maps and marking them over with sharpies. That wasn't the disturbing bit though. The disturbing bit was that they were laughing. What were they laughing about? What were they talking about? Because it sure as hell wasn't tactical movements in urban areas. Maybe it was an egotistical assumption, but Evelyn got the gnawing suspicion that they were talking about her. All of the sudden she didn't find the idea of them hating each other quite as unappealing as she did before.

Suddenly the ball from that chaotic little soccer game landed at her feet, so she seized the opportunity and kicked in the direction of the unholy union, sending it flying into the back of Hal's head. He twisted around in his seat, and when he saw her a broad smile covered his face. "I'm going to get you back for that."

"I'm quaking in my boots," she shot back in a sarcastic tone.

Evelyn approached the table with small, hesitant steps, fists shoved deep in her coat pockets. "What the hell is this?" she asked in an uncertain sort of voice, glancing between the two of them suspiciously.

Oh, hey squirt!" Ian said over his shoulder in a tone that contrasted completely with the serious and disapproving one of the previous night. "We're just engagin' in some typical male bonding. Swappin' war stories and the like." He turned around to face her with a weirdly proud smile on his face. "Is it true that you jumped on one of those things backs and killed it with a knife?" Evelyn pressed her lips together in a thin line and narrowed her eyes at the two of them. Ian burst out laughing. "Holy crap, squirt! I never would've pegged you for the female version of Rambo! The little girl's all grown up and kickin' ass. I've never been more proud."

Evelyn ground her teeth and continued glaring in a less than amiable fashion. "It's not exactly one of my proudest moments," she growled back, glowering a bit at Hal. "That's all you're talking about? War stories?"

Ian's smirk widened. "Well, in this little scenario the term 'war stories' is bein' used in a more…general sense. Metaphorical if you will."

At this point in her life, not a lot of things truly scared Evelyn, but that knowing smile on Ian's face made her blood run cold. She turned to Hal with an expression that bordered between anger and pure, unadulterated terror. He just let out a light laugh and held up his hands in submission. "Hey, don't look at me," he said between snickers. "He's your long-lost brother-from-another-mother. I take no responsibility for him."

Evelyn shook her head and sat down at the table across from Hal. "You're not exactly easing my mind over here, Mason."

Ian leaned over and pulled her into an awkward, one-armed hug. "Come on, Eve," she said jovially, ruffling her hair. "Always so serious. You need to lighten up a bit. People will probably respect you more if they knew about that time you got sloshed on watered-down sangria an' I had to carry you back to your dorm room."

Hal let out a giant guffaw which he subtly turned into a hacking cough. Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut and tried to make it all go away while Ian barreled on, giving an unnecessary amount of detail about one of her more embarrassing freshman experiences. She just had to suffer through it, like a bad case of the flu.

"An' then there was this other time when she woke up with this pineapple by her bed….."

Evelyn quickly shoved Ian hard in the shoulder, sending him flying to the ground. "We agreed never to talk about the Pineapple Incident," she hissed angrily.

"Seriously, Eve," he groaned in response. "What happened to your sense of humo—"

"Do you want me to bring up the Becca Delucci Debacle?"

Ian blinked as that small flicker of fear crossed his face. He looked at Evelyn, who raised a threatening eyebrow at him, and then at Hal who was looking back and forth between them with an desire for popcorn and other assorted movie theater snacks clearly written across his face. Clearing his throat, Ian climbed back in his chair and folded his hands neatly on the table. "So we've caught sight of patrols—"

Hal groaned heavily and leaned back in his chair. "Oh, come on! You can't leave it at that!"

Ian shot him a glare. "Dude, don't question it."

Hal sighed heavily and shook his head in frustration. "Evey, has anybody ever told you that you're a buzzkill?"

She rolled her eyes in response. "Who are you kidding, Hal? I'm a fucking pleasure to be around. Now shouldn't we be getting back to work or something?"

"Hey, you're the one who interrupted our male bondin' time," Ian shot back before turning back to the maps on the table. "Did you guys clock the factory on Northern Hyde street?" he asked tapping his forefinger on one of the intersections right near where those kids had stolen their bikes.

"Yeah," Hal nodded, drawing a small 'x' at the location. "Yeah, we saw that one."

"There are a fuck-ton of battle-bots there," Ian muttered, moving into a more serious tone. And those kids with the parasites on their backs. Chinchas too."

Evelyn furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "Chinchas?"

Ian let out a light, humorless laugh. "It's what we call those Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle alien things. Means something Spanish, not sure what. Diego came up with it. Kinda catchy. It stuck."

"We call them skitters," Hal said, still staring down at the map. He sighed heavily and scratched at the back of his neck the way he did when he got frustrated. He kept tapping his pen on that 'x' he had just drawn on the map. Evelyn bit her lip and looked at him with concern. She could tell it was bothering him—that factory. There was a lot of activity around it. It was important to the skitters, and so it was a great target. A way to take revenge, to do something tangible in the war, and they were just going to roll past it. It was like putting a bag of heroin in front of a junkie and telling them to leave it on the table. That or a pint of ice cream. Not that the two things were equal by any stretch of the imagination—she just really missed ice cream. He cleared his throat and glanced up, noticing her questioning expression. He exhaled sharply and rubbed at his eyes. "What do you think it is? The factory, I mean. What could be worth all that muscle?"

"Don't know, don't care," Ian said casually, propping his feet up on the table. "Just as long as they stay where they are and leave me and mine alone. They come near any of us, they get a bullet in the braincase."

Evelyn, who understood the actual meaning behind the question, leaned forward, fixing Hal under her stare. He didn't notice, though, or was choosing not to, instead turning back to his map. "It doesn't matter what it is," she said quietly. "We can't do anything about it. We can't afford to attract any attention to ourselves, especially now. It's probably better if we don't know. There's less to regret." She didn't get any response. "Hal?"

Hal looked up and made eye contact for about two seconds when his gaze suddenly shifted to someone behind her. "Hey, dad!" he shouted out. Evelyn turned around to see Tom walking by. He paused for a moment and inclined his head at her and Ian in a silent hello before facing his son. "Ian was just giving us some great intel," Hal continued. "I think it'll really help us on the trip to Charleston."

Tom pressed his lips together in a thin line and gave a single, determined nod. "That's good. Every little bit helps."

"Yeah, I've been meanin' to ask you guys," Ian muttered stretching his back and yawning heavily. "What's with all this talk about Charleston? The way you folks've been talkin' about it, it sounds like friggin' El Dorado. Or Miami during spring break. What gives?"

Tom readjusted the strap of his rifle and shrugged his shoulders in that weirdly dignified way he always seemed to manage. "Rumors of survivors organizing a pretty substantial force against the invasion."

Ian snorted and shook his head, sending his messy blond hair flying. "Rumors. I have to say I don't quite like the sound of that. Rumors are how that whole Becca Delucci situation got blown way out of proportion. Ya can't trust 'em."

"Well nothing's for sure these days," Tom replied. "We do the best we can, and that's all we can do. You're groups welcome to join us if you want."

Ian pursed his lips and gave Tom an appraising look, like he was measuring him up. "Well I can't guarantee anything till I've though on it more, but I'll definitely consider it, Mr. Professer-man."

"Glad to hear it," Tom said warmly. "Truck's ready if you want to start loading your supplies. Jamil's scrounged up some bike parts you might be able to fix yours with. Sorry you can't give you more, but we're pretty thin as it is."

Ian raised his eyebrows and looked at Tom incredulously. "You're kiddin' right? Runnin' in to you guys is the first stroke of luck we've had in a long, long time, and it's not just 'cause I got to see squirt's adorable face again." He reached over and pinched Evelyn's cheek, making her groan in embarrassment. "Naw, you've done more than enough for me an' my merry little band. Just wish we could return the favor." Ian clapped his hands and rubbed them together excitedly before hauling himself to his feet. "Alright. I've got to get this show on the road. Diego's good people, but he's annoyin' as hell sometimes an' I'm pretty sure after another day alone with those kids, they'll eat 'im alive."

He jogged into the impromptu soccer field and quickly stole the ball from a kid and scored a goal, shooting a dramatic wink at Maggie. "Alright, idiots!" he shouted at the top of his. "We've got work to do an' places to be! Time to fall in line!"

The soccer field was vacated in a matter of seconds as those kids literally fell in line and trailed and vacated the soccer field, trailing after him as he led them towards the truck. Evelyn watched them go with a small smile on her face. Ian had had a huge family—four siblings all younger than him. You would never think it if you saw him doing a keg flip at a frat party, but he was good with family. He was good at keeping people together. Hell, he had gotten through to her in college, and if she hadn't had classes she would be a few steps from turning into Howard Hughes.

All of the sudden Tom started laughing, making her give him a strange look. "What's going on with you?"

Tom just smiled and shook his head, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly. "Nothing, nothing. It's just….that kid was in the intro history course I taught a few years ago. He would always sit in the front row and he would always fall asleep. Every time. I don't even think he remembered me. Now he's taking care of a group of kids. It's just not something I would see coming."

Evelyn shrugged. "None of us are what we were before. I mean, could you really imagine me a few years ago being so cozy with a freaking Uzi?"

"Yeah," Tom murmured absently. "Yeah, I guess so."

Evelyn grabbed at Hal's map and studied it while Tom wandered off, presumably to talk to Matt who was sulking as he watched the other kids go. She smoothed the paper flat on the table and ran her fingers over it, looking at all the little 'x's. There were so many of them. "Holy shit," she muttered under her breath. It looks like the worst game of Minesweeper ever."

Hal snatched the map from her and folded, shoving it in the inside pocket of his jacket. "Yeah, well it's not like we're going to be able to do anything about it anyway." He stood up quickly and held out a hand to help her up. "Come on. Let's go load up the truck."

Evelyn took his hand and he yanked her to her feet. "It's frustrating me to, you know," she said quietly. "I mean, I know with the trip to Charleston it kind of feels like we've given up the fight and all that, but we haven't. Just give it a little time."

Hal didn't say anything and just kept walking. What was it with guys and repressing their emotions? Ugh. Sometimes she swore she had to tell them how they felt for them to realize it in the first place. And that was seriously annoying for someone as emotionally inept as herself. Evelyn sighed and tugged nervously at the hair spilling out of her ponytail. "So what the hell did I walk in on," she asked, changing the subject. "Has Ian murdered my dignity yet or what?"

Hal sucked in a breath between his teeth and shot her a pitying look. "Sorry, that's not up for discussion."

Evelyn let out a loud scoff and smacked him hard in the chest. "Like hell it isn't! You tell me everything that Matthew McConaughey wannabe said or I swear by all that is good and holy, I will end you, Hal Mason."

He just made a face and shook his head at her. "I'm sorry, Evey. I would tell if I could—I really would—but I can't. It violates the bro code."

Evelyn's eyes widened so much she felt like they were about to fall out of her head and her eyebrows disappeared into her hair. "Excuse me."

"The bro code," he repeated simply.

"Nope. That's not a thing. That doesn't exist."

"Yeah, it is," he continued, no quite managing to keep the laughter out of his voice. "It is the covenant established between two bros which is contingent upon—"

"Jesus Christ!" Evelyn exclaimed, beginning to laugh a bit herself. "The two of you have known each other for like twenty-two hours, you've liked each other for eight hours tops—a transition which I don't get by the way—and you're already merging personalities. This is absolutely unacceptable. This world can not handle two Ians. It would implode."

Hal stopped short and grabbed hold of her jacket. "Now hold on a second. Why to I have to be the one turning into him?"

She shot him a pitying look much like the one he just gave her. "The bro code? Ian wrote a fucking manifesto when he was in high school. He made me proofread the damn thing."

Hal opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but nothing came out. He stood there a few moments, and then the slack-jawed expression turned into a smile. "He actually wrote a manifesto?"

"He most certainly did."

"Awesome."

"Anyways," she rambled on, starting to walk again and dragging him after her and nearing the flurry of action surrounding the truck, "the point isn't about that freaking manifesto. The point is that we're partners and partnership trumps bro code every time."

"Hey, Mason!" Ian's voice rang out from the other side of the truck. "Stop flirting and get your lazy ass over here! You'll never get a chick without impressin' her by carryin' around heavy shit!"

Hal shot her a sheepish smile and shrugged theatrically. "Sorry, Evey! Work calls. Literally, so..."

"Don't you dare walk away from me!"

He didn't walk. He ran—sprinted even—to the other side of the truck so that he could spend more time with Ian, with Steely O'Neely. Evelyn rolled her eyes and leaned against the side of the truck. Everything about this world was so fucked up. Even the good bits ended up being a mind fuck. Two parts of her life were colliding right now, and it felt like it was happening at the same time—the before and the after. It was just too weird. Like space and time were folding in on each other and forming a paradox. Aliens were real. It was about time she found herself in an episode of Doctor Who.

Ian and his shenanigans had been a semi-significant part of her life for about a year, but that year felt like a lifetime ago. It was like he was adopting a puppy or something, picking up the sad, lonely seventeen-year-old who spent most of her time locked in her dorm room pouring over books and articles that she probably would never be old enough to use in any practical sense. But books had suited her just fine. It's not like real life had been working in her favor at that point. She had been paired with him for tutoring by the chemistry professor, and then the next weekend he had knocked on her door and dragged her to the nearest frat party. She hadn't enjoyed herself at all and refused every single other invitation to a frat party, but he still dragged her out every now and again. Hell, he had taught her to play pool. He had introduced her to sangria, which turned out not to be the best thing for her, re the Pineapple Incident. But he had taken care of her. And she had taken care of him. Now, though, it was all different. It was the same too. And that was what made it so fucking weird. It was like that small pocket of her past was now tainted by the present, and that made it better and worse at the same time.

Somebody was staring at her. Even though her eyes were closed Evelyn knew someone was staring at her. They had moved between her and the sun, casting a shadow over her and making her cold. "What do you want?" she asked in a voice that sounded whinier than she had intended it.

"Trouble in paradise?" a low, female voice asked her.

She cracked one of her eyes to see Maggie standing there, arms crossed across her chest and a smirk across her face. Evelyn narrowed her eyes at the girl. "I liked you better when you were broody and didn't talk."

Maggie just laughed and tossed a bag of rice at her. "Come on, chickadee," she said with a wry smile, "You'll never find yourself a man without impressing him by carrying around a lot of heavy shit."

Evelyn pushed off the side of the truck, grumbling loudly. "He is a terrible influence on everybody."

It was about an hour before they finished loading things up. The sun was just starting to fall down on the horizon as she threw the last couple of cans of beans in the bed of the truck. That sort of feeling of satisfaction was sinking into her, the one you feel after doing a lot of hard work. It wasn't actually hard for her per se—these days a forty pound bag of rice felt more like one of those five pound weights her mother was lifting all the time—but it was a job that was done. Finishing anything these days felt like a small sort of victory. All of that fell away though, when she saw Matt standing a few feet off, looking more pissed than any ten-year-old had a right to. What was it with the Mason family these days? She was about to go over and ask him what was going on, but Ian beat her to it.

"Hey," she heard him say from her position near the truck. "Nice hat. You a baseball fan?"

Matt shifted on his feet, wary of the attention, and readjusted that red baseball cap that had been on his head for about two weeks straight now. "Nah, I just found it."

"Well good then," Ian added with his trademark smirk. "Soccer's way better anyway." He walked up to Matt, took the hat and flipped it around so the kid was wearing it backwards, like some miniature Vanilla Ice impersonater. "You're kinda famous around these parts, aren't ya, little man?"

Matt furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Well you're the kid who killed those chinchas—skitters—yesterday. That was you, right? That sounded pretty cool."

Evelyn stayed quiet in her corner, but she didn't say anything. Tom hadn't told her about Matt killing any skitters. Ian had to be wrong. But he wasn't. Matt smiled and nodded his head eagerly. "Yeah, it was awesome!" he said, a huge smile forming on his small face. "I was on my scooter, and I saw two skitters—but, but I pretended like I didn't. I led them into Boon and Tector's field of fire. And they shot their heads off…and they exploded like BASHOOM! BASHOOM!"

Ian laughed lightly and nodded. "That's pretty good."

Evelyn had heard enough. She had enough high school drama from the other three Masons. She didn't need any from the one of them who wasn't even old enough to be in high school. She walked over to Ian and put a hand on his shoulder. "We're loaded," she said quietly, grabbing his jacket collar and yanking him after her. "It's time to get going." There was enough going on to begin with. Matt thinking he was a pint-sized Captain America was not something she wanted to add to the list.

"Well, alright then," Ian said excitedly. "Come on grunts, we're movin' out!" And then for some reason he started humming the tune to 'Ride of the Valkyries.' She would never be able to fully understand him.

There was a chorus of slamming doors and revving car engines as Evelyn walked towards the truck. Hal was already in the driver's seat, revving the engine unnecessarily loudly and waggling his eyebrows at her dramatically. "You know I'm gonna get you back for that," he said, casually slipping on his shades.

Evelyn rolled her eyes and slipped in the passenger's seat. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"The soccer ball," he said simply. "I'm going to get you back and then the first words out of my mouth will be 'vengeance is mine sayeth the Hal.'"

Evelyn snorted heavily and buckled herself in. "Yeah?" she replied in an arch tone. "Well I'll get you back for getting me back and the first words out of my mouth will be 'Kneel before Zod!'"

Hal narrowed his eyes and revved the engine one more time. "It seems that we have reached an impasse."

"Yes. Yes, it does."

He threw the car into gear and took off after the glorified mopeds that were leading them back to Ian's camp. Hal drummed his fingers on the wheel anxiously. "Sooooooo," he drew out in a curious tone. "What was the Pineapple incident?"

Evelyn propped her feet up on the dash and smirked. "You'll never know. I have enough dirt on Ian to ensure that."

**So Hal and Evey are all good. How did Hal and Ian get over their little conflict…that's up to you to decide. Sorry for any spelling/grammar errors—as I'm sure you know by now I'm shit at proofreading.**

**And thanks to Guest/ 'Love This Story' whoever reviewed TSKoB yesterday. The fact that people are still reading my first story and enjoying it means so much. You actually made me get my ass in gear and write this chapter. Hopefully the next one will come sooner. **

**Please review! It kills skitters.**


	21. Crossing the Rubicon

**DISCLAIMER: I do not have and scruffy little beard. Therefore I am not Steven Spielberg and do not own 'Falling Skies'. Any familiar dialogue is taken from the show.**

**Photos of OCs, soundtracks, are on my profile and the soundtrack is saved as chapter two of the story 'Falling Skies Soundtracks'.**

**I know, I'm a terrible human being! Sorry for keeping you guys waiting so long. I got serious writers block on this story and got into a rhythm with the other one I'm writing, so I was working on that for a long time. Well now I've got writer's block on that story, so hopefully that means I'll get my groove back with this one and get on a roll.**

**A big thank you to LucyRider17, guest, and Niamh O'Mahony for reviewing! You guys really have no idea how much I appreciate it.**

Chapter 20 – Crossing the Rubicon

"Hal, we need to be moving faster here!"

Hal didn't bother looking at her, opting instead to keep his eyes trained on the road in front of him, tightly gripping the steering wheel. He had to. It was dark, raining, and there was an untold amount of debris cluttering up the road. Driving the roads these days was like playing a contact sport. You're always about to run into something. While the Second Mass was on the move, traveling in that one giant caravan, it didn't really matter as much because the objects could be easily available. Now, though, they were pushing sixty miles an hour driving down a dark, unfamiliar road. They were going fast, but it still wasn't fast enough.

How could everything go to shit so quickly? One second they were driving idly down that same road, ready to be the conquering heroes dropping off a pile of supplies for that ragged band of misfits Ian had somehow managed to wrangle together, and the next they were all on edge, guns in hand and waiting for an attack. They were getting close to that warehouse when they saw the first fire. Evelyn and Hal had actually been laughing—she had spilled her guts about the Becca Delucci debacle, gesturing wildly with her feet propped up on the dash—but that laughter had quickly been choked out by the smoke. Evelyn knew saying that things had become 'too quiet' was a gigantic cliché, but in their case, approaching that door, it happened to be true.

It looked like a bomb had gone off inside Ian's little hideout. His oasis was gone—the water had dried out and the palm trees were set aflame. And the kids…they were gone, taken. All but the two they found in a corner, desperately clinging to each other as if they were life itself. The first—that hothead Diego—was riding with Jeanne on that moped of hers. Not that she could blame him. He was traumatized. As for the other one—Robbie, a small boy with wildly curly hair—he was propped up in the passenger's seat of the truck with her straddling his lap and pressing motor oil-stained rags against his chest, trying to staunch the flow of blood without jostling or moving that piece of shrapnel that was protruding from just a few inches below his left clavicle. Shit, she was in way, way over her head. Stitches, basic stuff like field dressings—that she could handle, but the way Robbie was bleeding that giant chunk of hubcap sticking out of him might have nicked the subclavian vein. If she shifted that metal she could sever it. If she removed it, he might bleed out. She wasn't Anne, just a cheap imitation, and all she could to was keep Robbie alive long enough to get him to her.

Evelyn blew at the hair hanging in her eyes, not willing to move her hands from Robbie's chest. The rags were soaking though fast and her hands were covered with warm, sticky blood. All of the sudden he let out a shriek and started thrashing about. Evelyn swore heavily and removed one of her hands from the wound, instead using her forearm to brace herself against the small flailing body, pushing him hard against the seat back and trying to keep him still. He was going into shock and they had to get him to Anne. Now.

"Seriously, Hal!" she shouted, getting more anxious but trying hard to keep her voice and her hands steady. "Let's think more NASCAR and less 'Driving Miss Daisy'!"

"Evey, we're not playing Mario Cart in the basement of my old house," he shot back in a tense, restrained sounding voice. "There are no banana peels, no extra speed bursts, and there are no extra lives. I'm going as fast as I can."

Evelyn bit her lip and nodded. She knew he was doing the best that he could—they were all doing the best that they could. But she still felt that slight jerking sensation and revving noise as Hal brought the car into a higher gear. The two of them didn't speak for the rest of the car ride. On the way to Ian's hide out the two of them had listened to an old AC/DC tape someone had left shoved in the stereo, but now all they had to listen to was the screech of the wheels against the pavement and the paranoid screams and wheezing breath of someone who seemed to be on the verge of death.

When they had first left camp it was still light, but by the time they rolled back up to that dirty caravan of cars and tents most everybody was asleep. Everyone except the night guard and those people milling about the medical bus whose lights were already on, waiting for them. Glancing back over her shoulder, Evelyn could see Ben's bike parked next to the Winnebago. It didn't matter how quickly he drove while he was on the road. With his vision, he might as well be driving in broad daylight, and that made him their harbinger, their messenger, their Paul Revere. And he was standing there, staring at the truck as they approached.

As soon as the truck came to a halt, Anne's face appeared in the window, that familiar look of maternal worry that so frequently marred her features these days. "What do we have," she asked urgently, pushing the frizzy stray hairs out of her face.

"I'm not sure," Evelyn replied quickly. "He's got a penetrating wound just beneath the left clavicle, and he's bleeding fairly profusely, but in the dark I haven't really been able to assess the damage. I haven't removed the shrapnel, but I've done my best to keep it stable and to stop the blood, but—"

"Alright," Anne said in that unearthly calm voice of hers that she seemed to adopt in times of crisis. "We need to get him in the bus and I'll take it from there."

Evelyn nodded and carefully clambered off of Robbie's limp figure, careful not to jostle him too much. Throwing the door open, she carefully looped her arms under the boy's shoulders while Hal rounded the side of the car and grabbed hold of his feet. They quickly lifted Robbie out of the car and quickly and gingerly carried him up the stairs. He was so light and small, so young and malnourished, Evelyn was half-expecting him to crumble into dust in her hands. Once inside, she and Hal gently placed him on one of the beds and quickly stepped back. Lourdes, who was already in there, switched on those harsh fluorescent lights while Anne quickly began cutting away the blood-soaked fabric of Robbie's shirt. When she pulled it away, the skin underneath was so pale it already looked like death. Evelyn glanced back at the boy's face, and what she saw made her blink. For a moment—just a moment—she thought she was looking at Jimmy on that table all over again.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked hesitantly.

"No," Anne said brusquely, not bothering to turn around and leaning closely over the figure. "No, the best thing you can do for us now is give us space."

Evelyn nodded again—that seemed to be all she could do lately—and walked back towards the entrance of the bus, allowing one last glance at the flurry of action before following Hal out the door. Immediately after stepping onto solid ground, Ian appeared directly in front of the two of them. He still looked steady, but there was still a shadow of panic in his eyes as he looked between the two of them. It wasn't an expression Evelyn was used to seeing on his face. She had gotten so used to that sardonic and overconfident smirk that anything else looked unnatural.

"How's the kid?" he asked in a forcibly restrained tone. "He gonna pull though?" The panicked look shifted to one of absolute terror when his eyes fell on Evelyn's hands, which were still covered in blood. "Oh, Jesus," he exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly. "Oh, shit, is he—"

"He's not dead," Evelyn interjected quickly. She was about to reach up and put a comforting hand on his shoulder, but quickly snatched it back when she caught sight of the red. Hal, picking up on her intentions, took a step forward and clapped a hand on Ian's shoulder, giving him a firm nod.

"Look," Hal said in a calm-sounding voice, "we can't say for sure if he's going to be okay or not, but Anne's the best there is. If anybody could fix him up, it's her."

Ian narrowed his eyes at Hal and studied his face suspiciously, judging his sincerity. Hal stared back evenly and soon enough Ian's shoulders sagged, letting some of that tension leave his body. He took a step back and Hal's hand dropped back down to his side. Ian squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head in frustration. "Fuck," he muttered bitterly. "I was so not ready for this shit. Those kids were my responsibility, an' now—"

The sudden roaring of an engine drowned out the rest of what Ian was going to say as a moped sped towards them. It was Jeanne and Diego who were leading the rest of the bikes back to camp. Most of that small fleet turned to the right, heading back where the rest of the bikes were parked, but that first moped peeled away from the rest of the group, heading straight towards the medical bus. It skidded to a halt right in front of them, sending a hailstorm of gravel flying at them. The moment it stopped moving, Diego hopped off the back, marching towards them, glaring daggers.

"I want to see the kid!" he yelled, gesturing angrily at them with one arm while the other one lay limply at his side. "Where's Robbie?" His eyes flickered towards the door of the medical bus and a stony determined look crossed his face. He made a move towards the door, about to push himself in, but Evelyn quickly stepped in his way, placing a firm hand on his chest. Diego quickly slapped it away and gave out a low growl, shoving her back a few steps. "Out of my way, _puta_," he sneered.

Evelyn clenched her jaw and shoved him back as well. "I don't think so, bitch," she growled back, staring him down. "You want Robbie to live, you have to let the doc do her work. She's good—the best—but if you barge in there, interrupt her, that's not exactly going to make things better, is it?"

Diego kept glowering at her, his jaw twitching in anger and frustration. Evelyn sighed heavily and her eyes fell on that limp arm of his. "Is that dislocated?" He eyed her with distrust and nodded slightly. Evelyn gave a single definitive nod in response and took a step towards him. "Give it here," she said, ignoring his protests and grabbing hold of his arm, snapping it back in place, making him let out a loud yelp and start swearing loudly at her in Spanish.

"Stow your shit, Diego," Ian replied harshly taking a step so he was in line with Evelyn. "Unless you want to get into a pissin' match with a girl half your size. Now she fixed up your arm. I believe this is the part where you say 'gracias'."

Diego rolled his shoulder a few times, blinking in surprise at the sudden respite from pain, but continued to glare at Ian like he was trying to set him on fire with his mind. Jeanne stepped forwards and put a hand on his shoulder and whispered something into his ear that made him unclench to a certain degree. Jesus, that girl was magic or something. He took a deep breath and bit out a rough 'thank you'.

A short silence fell over the group. The five of them—Evelyn, Ian, Hal, Diego, and Jeanne—stood there in a circle looking at each other. They were all so fucking young. In another life Hal would be about to graduate, Ian would probably be on a soccer field somewhere, Diego and Jeanne would have just started high school, and she…well she didn't quite know where she would have been. It certainly wouldn't be wondering how she was going to save a group of kids. Nope, she probably would have been studying for a test or watching a romcom while eating ice cream out of the carton while her mother was at some fancy benefit or charity event.

It was Diego who spoke first. "So what are we going to do about this?" he asked harshly, folding his arms over his chest.

As if on cue, Ben suddenly appeared around the side of one of the cars. "Hey," he said, making them all turn to him. "Weaver and dad are awake. Weaver wants us to meet at HQ figure out how to proceed." And then he spun around and marched off into the dark as quickly as he had appeared, leaving them to follow him.

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

The tent was crowded as the lot of them were also joined by Tom and Dai, and the tension seemed to be filling the space, contained within those fabric walls as it rolled off of each of them in waves. But more than just tension, there was also an atmosphere of anxiety and hostility that was just barely contained, most of that tension radiating outwards from one specific individual. From what Evelyn could tell, Diego was a time bomb, volatile, ready to lash out at any moment. He was the most dangerous type of soldier—he was the wild card, reckless and overconfident in his abilities. But he still had those abilities and he was still of use. He just needed to be kept under control, tempered, before he did something that would get other people killed. Ian seemed to be able to keep him in line well enough and Jeanne was apparently the voice of reason whispering into his ear, but Evelyn was still wary of him and found herself watching him out of the corner of her eye.

Grabbing the map from one of the trunks in the corner of the tent, Evelyn brought it to the table, unrolling it while the others leaned over, peering down at the series of x's and squiggles it had amassed over the past few scouting missions. Evelyn stepped away and allowed Weaver to lean in closer, falling in line with Maggie who had joined them after seeing that the bikes were properly stowed. Noticing the older girl's tension, Evelyn put a steadying hand on her shoulder. It always hit Maggie hard when kids were involved.

Weaver ran his fingers over the map and looked up at Tom as if in confirmation of something before glancing up at Hal and Ian. "Alright, boys," he said in a gruff voice, "tell me what I should be looking at."

Before either Hal or Ian could say anything, Diego broke in, nudging Weaver aside a bit as he approached. "That factory right here," he said, tapping on that giant black x they had drawn on the map. "That's where we've seen a lot of harnessed kids."

"And that's the same building we saw on the scouting unit yesterday," Hal added. "The thing has power."

"And mechs guarding it," Ben added.

"Maybe they turned the factory into a harness facility," Maggie postulated.

"That would be my working theory," Evelyn said, nodding in agreement. "Last year back when Max and I were still with the Seventh Mass we stumbled across something we thought might have been a harness center, only it was set up in a prison." Evelyn stared forwards hard and ignored the sudden look she got from Ben. That place she was talking about, that prison, that was where he had been harnessed. It was a memory neither of them wanted to have, let alone recount, but for the sake of those kids it needed to be done. So she cleared her throat and continued. "That bastard Clayton didn't think it was worth our time, but we saw some kids being taken in there. Now that I think about it the organization and grouping of the mechs there was virtually identical to what we're seeing here."

"What do you remember about the setup?" Weaver asked, fixing her under a serious stare.

Evelyn sighed and rubbed at her forehead, trying to summon up the memory. Shit, it felt like a lifetime ago. "I remember there were at least five mechs—one posted at each entrance and at least two or three patrolling the area. I don't think I have anything useful. Like I said, Clayton nixed the raid. We never did get eyes inside."

Weaver sighed wearily and scratched the back of his neck. "Okay, Ben, I know it's a lot to ask, but do you remember anything from before you were harnessed?"

Ben blinked in surprise, but recovered quickly. "Uh, there's not much. Just fragments."

"Anything would be helpful," Tom responded in that low, soothing, protective voice of his.

Ben let out a small, almost indiscernible shudder before opening his mouth, but when he spoke his voice was calm. "First they kept us in a holding room."

"For how long?" Dai interjected.

Ben shook his head and shrugged. "I don't know. There were no windows, no clocks, no way for me to tell."

"What else do you remember," Tom urged on.

"They, uh, they took us to a harnessing chamber."

"What was the distance between the holding room and the harnessing chamber?" Weaver queried.

Evelyn could tell that Ben was starting to get flustered. He kept opening and closing his mouth like a fish dying on the deck of a boat. "I'm sorry," he continued in a bewildered voice. "I don't—I can't—"

"The layout isn't going to be the same," Evelyn broke in, sparing Ben any further interrogation. "On thing we know about the skitters is that they're scavengers, they use what's there and fit it to their convenience. Each one probably has its own floor plan—it's not like they're Starbucks. Except for the whole world domination thing."

"That may be true, Walsh," Weaver growled, "but we still need to assemble all the information we ca—"

"Alright, look," Diego snapped, "we know they're in there. We're wasting time, let's just go."

"Not so fast," Weaver replied, holding out a steadying hand. "We need a plan. Improvising gets people killed."

Diego let out a loud scoff and folded his arms across his chest, adopting a hostile posture. "Yeah, while you're sitting around making plans they're harnessing our friends."

Weaver stiffened slightly at the insubordination and shifted on his feet so that his shoulders were squared in Diego's direction, like he was trying to tell the boy to stand down. "I'm not going to put people's lives at risk so that you can go off half-cocked."

"Fine. Stay here with your maps. I'm going in." He turned around to face Ian, who was standing in the shadows nearby. "Alright, fearless leader. You coming or not?"

"I said no," Weaver growled in a deadly voice, staring Diego down.

A look of pure venom spread across Diego's face and Evelyn just knew that the time bomb was about to count down to zero. "I don't take orders from anyone, especially a man who couldn't even save his own family."

At that any semblance of self-restraint Weaver had completely evaporated. He lunged across the table, grabbing Diego be the collar and dragging him forward until their faces were inches apart. "You listen to me there, sonny boy," he screamed, ignoring the pleading of his daughter. "You do not talk to me about my family! You hear me!"

Jeanne's shrill voice rang out through the tent begging them to stop as they wrestle with each other. Eventually she managed to get in between them, planting a hand on each of their chests and forcing them apart. "Stop! Please!"

"I told you he hasn't changed," Diego spat, rubbing at his neck, still glaring at Weaver.

Then Ian groaned loudly and stepped forwards. "Okay, I've had about enough of this shit," he growled moving towards Diego. In a matter of seconds he had the younger boy in a headlock and was dragging him out the tent, speaking to him in a low, steady tone as he flailed about, trying to get free.

Once Diego was out of the tent, Jeanne rounded on her father, glaring at him like she was trying to set him on fire with her mind. Weaver lifted a hand towards her, trying to cup her cheek or place it on her shoulder—one of the comforting things parents usually do—but she quickly slapped it away. A flicker of regret crossed Weaver's eyes and he sighed deeply. "Jeannie, I am sorry, but—"

"If you were sorry, you would try to be different," she screeched back. "You wouldn't be the same, angry control freak! This is exactly why mom kicked you out!" And with that she stormed out to the tent, brushing past Ian and ramming hard into his shoulder as he tried to make his way back in. Ian's eyes darted about for a few moments before breaking the tense silence.

"Look, I'm sorry about Diego," he said in a tone of reconciliation, walking back up to the center table so that he was directly facing Weaver. "He's a stubborn little bastard with some serious anger management issues, but he's a good kid. And I can't say he's wrong here. Not that I don't understand where you're comin' from because I do, but those are _my_ people in trouble, not yours. Now, I'm not questionin' you and yours or your intentions, but this is some time sensitive shit we're dealin' with. If any one of those kids gets harnessed—if Robbie dies—it's not on any of y'all. That's on me. After all the crap that's gone down lately, I'm not so good with trustin' people anymore, but I'm tryin' here. So level with me."

"It's not like we're stopping for tea and crumpets with the queen," Hal said calmly. "We're not trying to put anything off. But pulling a Leroy Jenkins and just running straight at the building isn't going to solve anything. Dying isn't going to help the kids."

Ian exhaled sharply and turned to Evelyn, waiting for her response. She simply nodded, and making him nod as well. "Fine. You were always the smarter one, squirt, so I'll listen to ya. For an hour. Once that hour's up, I'll pull some fuckin' Lone Ranger, Chuck Norris shit and go in on my own." Then he turned to Weaver who gave him a single, definitive nod.

"Understood."

(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)*(*)

Forty-three minutes and eighteen seconds—that's how long it took them to come up with the plan. Well it wasn't so much a plan as a general guideline on how to not get killed. It was rough and there were more holes in it than in a block of Swiss cheese, but it was the best they could do given the time frame and the limited amount of information they had access too. They knew barely anything about the exterior of that factory, and the inside was one giant question mark. They were going in blind.

"Grab your weapons and gear up!" Weaver shouted as he strode out of the tent. "We move out in five!"

Everybody dispersed to their appropriate corners to grab there gear. Evelyn made a beeline for that old beat-up Chevy truck they where they had abandoned their guns before hauling Robbie to safety. Evelyn paused for a moment after opening the door, staring at that giant stain on the seat that had, in the interim, turned from a deep, crimson red to a thick, congealed black. She quickly grabbed the rifle from where she had dropped it at her feet, was about to slam the door shut, but instead she found herself looking at that puddle of blood—such a big puddle for such a small kid. She just stood there and stared at it for what was probably a long time, but felt like a millisecond

"Hey, you haven't seen Matt, have you?"

The voice forced Evelyn to rip her eyes from that seat and she found Hal, who had appeared out of nowhere, leaning on at the other window, looking at her. When he caught the expression on her face, the one on his shifted a bit, picking up an aura of seriousness and concern.

"Sorry, can't say that I have," she replied shortly, slamming the car door shut. She cleared her throat and broke eye contact, reaching through the window to open the glove compartment and grab the extra ammunition. There were only two mags left. "We need more ammo," she said, tossing him one of the mags, which he caught easily.

Hal shoved the magazine into his jacket pocked and narrowed his eyes at her, studying her face carefully. And then he just said one word. Well, two if you counted the contraction.

"Don't."

Evelyn stopped and stared at him for a moment before cursing his perceptiveness and setting off to the tent that was their sad excuse for an armory. She could hear the sound of Hal's feet hitting the ground as he jogged towards her, trying to catch up with her fast pace. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back roughly before she could enter the tent. "Hey, I said don't," he said in a low voice, staring at her with a meaningful expression.

"Don't what, Hal?" she replied shortly, shrugging his hand off of her.

"You know what," Hal said, rolling his eyes at her. "Don't start thinking that all of this is happening because of something we did."

Once the words left his mouth, Evelyn froze, feeling her muscles clench. "I wasn't—"

"Yes you were," he said with an unnerving degree of certainty. "We didn't bring the skitters down on them, Evey. It didn't have anything to do with us."

Evelyn sighed and scratched at her forehead. Why did he have to know her so well? These days it felt like it was impossible to keep any secrets from him. Except for the really, really big ones—the ones she wanted to tell him the most, but couldn't. Looking into Hal's earnest face, that look of steely resolve that she had cultivated over all those months crumpled. "I know we didn't bring the skitters down on them," she said in a wearied voice. "I know that. Those kids weren't exactly being subtle—the skitters were probably scoping them out long before we got there. It's just…sometimes it feels like we carry all the bad stuff with us, you know? Like we bring it with us wherever we go. Every time something good happens—Weaver finds his daughter, I find Ian again—it all goes to shit. There's always something bad to take its place."

Hal let out a soft laugh and shook his head. "I'm sorry, but that's total bullshit, Evey."

Evelyn widened her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. "Excuse me?"

"There's no connection between the bad and the good. You can't say every time something good happens, it causes something bad. There'll always be something bad going that's going to happen after the good stuff. It's not causation it's….circumstance. And then after the bad stuff it'll get good again. But if you keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, you'll never get to enjoy the good in the first place."

Evelyn blinked at him and furrowed her eyebrows. Hal was never one for impromptu speech-making, but here he was, making one. And putting her in her place. Evelyn had spent most of her life living in her own head—it was easy to do when you were alone most of the time—and that meant that her mind would seize on these thoughts and let it roll around in her mind. How exactly was it that the high school lacrosse jock ended up being to one who could not only see what was going on in her head, but manage to get her out of it?

"Since when were you a fucking philosopher?" she asked archly, raising a single eyebrow at him.

"Hey, more than just a pretty face," he said, jerking his thumbs in his direction and smirking slightly.

Evelyn felt a small smile tugging at her lips. "I can see that."

"I think you just called me pretty," he shot back, his smirk widening.

Evelyn pressed her lips to avoid smiling more. "Jesus, Hal, your ego's like a gremlin. Never feed it after midnight."

"What happens if you get it wet or expose it to bright light?"

Evelyn opened her mouth to deliver some snarky response she hadn't quite formulated yet, when all of the sudden Ian's disembodied head appeared through the tent flap. "Is this really important flirtin'? 'Cause I think we've got some bigger priorities to worry about."

Then Ian careened forwards out of the tent, followed by Maggie who had evidently just shoved him. "Two more minutes till we move out," she said tersely. "We've got to get to the bikes."

Evelyn and Hal traded a slightly uncomfortable glances before quickly shoving some more ammo in there pockets and moving after the others towards the bikes. As they were walking, Hal began peering around the area like he was missing something. "MATT!"

Right, it was his goodbye. Every time Hal headed out on a mission, he would pull his younger brother aside, ruffle his hair, and tell him he would be back in a few hours. Usually Matt would run up, appearing seemingly out of nowhere as he darted between the tents, rap his arms around Hal's waist, and press his small head into his chest while Hal hugged him back. This time, though, Matt was nowhere to be seen. Soon enough, Evelyn added her voice alongside his.

"MATT!"

That crappy old truck pulled up alongside them with Tom at the wheel and Ian, Maggie, Ben, Tector, and Dai riding in the cab. Tom leaned over from his position in the driver's seat and fixed the two of them with a serious stare. "What's wrong?" he asked, his eyes darting quickly between her and Hal.

Hal walked up to the car and leaned in the passenger side window. "I can't find Matt," he said, concern edging into his voice. "Before I geared up I check our tent, I checked the mess tent—figure he might be there sulking about the other day, but he wasn't. I thought maybe he'd be hanging around the armory to say bye like he usually does, but he's not there either."

Tom quickly jumped out of the car, worry etched in his face.

"He's gone!" Weaver's voice suddenly rang out. Everybody spun in the direction of his voice. He was standing there, his back turned to them, and surveying a very empty lot where all the bikes should have been waiting patiently for them. "He's gone," he repeated, slowly spinning around to face them. "Jeanne too. All the bikes are gone."

A shiver ran through Evelyn, and all of the sudden everything started to sound very far away and the wave of panic swept through her veins. The voices were more like echoes, even though the people speaking were standing within ten feet of her.

"Fuckin' Diego," she hear Ian bite out angrily. "I'm goin' to kill that arrogant little prick. If he's not dead already."

"They went without us?" Tom asked in disbelief.

Nobody else said anything. There wasn't enough time to say anything. Without another word they all piled into the car, the engine revved, and they took off into the darkness.

**The 'is this really important flirting?' is a Doctor Who reference.**

**Okay, so I'd really like to get some reviews on this one. I've been working on a 'Misfits' fanfic for a while now, and that has a totally different style to it than this one, so I would like to know if this chapter seems consistent in terms of writing style and characterization.**

**Please review!**


	22. Asterisk

**DISCLAIMER: I do not have and scruffy little beard. Therefore I am not Steven Spielberg and do not own 'Falling Skies'. Any familiar dialogue is taken from the show.**

**Photos of OCs, soundtracks, are on my profile and the soundtrack is saved as chapter two of the story 'Falling Skies Soundtracks'.**

**A big thank you to LucyRider17, rachemma, and ZabuzasGirl for reviewing! You guys really have no idea how much I appreciate it.**

Chapter 21 – Asterisk

Things always looked different in the dark. She had been at that factory just over a day ago, but now the building looked completely foreign to her. It used to be that things looked scarier, more menacing, like staring into the unknown. It wasn't like that for her anymore—she knew now better than ever what was out there—but it wasn't the darkness that was affecting her. It was the change, the before and after of what she saw then and what she saw now. There were shadows and corners where none had existed before, in the bright light of day. It was like the universe was screaming at her, telling her just how unprepared they were for this mission they were about to carry out.

There was usually a process to the planning and organization of a mission. It was easier with the conventional ones, looking for food or gasoline, but those runs had become standard operating procedure. It was second nature to all of them by now, slight variations on a single overarching concept. This time they weren't foraging for scraps, they were entering enemy territory completely blind with eight bodies and less than an hour of planning. Not to mention the fact that the objective had changed. Because of that jackass Diego they now had twice as many people to rescue, so that half-assed plan that they had come up with had to be scrapped. This wasn't a mission. It was a Hail-Mary pass.

There was a soft chorus of thuds as the first of them collided with the wide pillars of the underpass next to the factory, pressing themselves as close to the cold concrete as possible to avoid the regular visual sweeps. Evelyn found herself at the corner of the wall, Maggie at her side. They were there less than a half a minute before they heard that tell-tale metallic clank of mech feet hitting the ground. Maggie swore under her breath. "Don't these guys ever take a fucking vacation?" she growled.

"Maybe they should unionize," Evelyn muttered back in a humorless voice. "Get them to the beach and force feed them a few Mai Tais, then the whole fucking occupation's over and done with. They can take our planet, but I doubt they can survive Spring Break. All that cheap beer would fry their circuitry."

Evelyn ignored Maggie's low, bitter chuckle as she edged closer to the corner of the wall. She had been through so much of this shit she should be used to it by now, but Evelyn wanted a plan. A real one. The last time they leveled a direct, offensive attack on the skitters had been Boston, and that had taken weeks of planning and the last time she acted without a plan, she had managed to get herself abducted by aliens and even though she wasn't probed, it hadn't exactly ended well for her. But any degree of hesitancy, any anxiety or second-guessing, was erased when she saw Matt's baseball cap lying there in the road. Anything else was replaced by white-hot rage and an infinite well of determination.

Looking over at the next wall, Evelyn waved over to Hal, Ben, and Ian who were crouched against the next pillar over, silently asking them for the all clear. Once it was given, she put her fingers to her mouth and let out a single, shrill whistle and waved the rest of the team over from where they were hiding behind a few burnt out cars, ready to provide suppressing fire if needed. Within a few moments four more bodies appeared out of the darkness. Weaver and Tom quickly made their way to the edge of the corner to assess the situation, forcing Maggie and Evelyn back with Tector and Dai.

"That's Matt's hat," Tom muttered in a surprisingly calm voice as he peered through his scope, ignoring the threatening clank of another approaching mech.

"You think the cockroaches got him?" Weaver whispered back.

Tom ripped his eyes away from the scene in front of him and turned back to face the rest of them, and Evelyn couldn't help but notice that steely glint they carried. It was a hard expression, one she wasn't accustomed to seeing on his face. "There's only one way to find out."

And that was all that had to be said. There was a look exchanged between Tom and Weaver—a look Evelyn assumed only a parent could understand—and then the orders began to flow with a rapidity and a certainty that she found oddly comforting.

"Maggie, Walsh, Dai, Tector, you go in the back," he growled. "The rest of us'll go in the front. Let's go!"

It was as if someone had opened the floodgates, and they were the water being released. Somehow when you fight alongside someone long enough, you're able to pick up on how they move, and eventually you know how they're going to act before they do. All of them dodged out from behind their pillars and immediately began moving towards the target location. Tom and Weaver peeled off to join Hal, Ben, and Ian, taking the front entrance while the rest of them kept moving, flanking the building to come in through a different entrance they could only hope wasn't currently being guarded by a mech sentry.

"Don't go loud if you don't have to!" Weaver's disembodied voice shouted quietly from somewhere behind them. It was too late though. The time for direction was over.

Cold wind ripped through Evelyn's hair as she ran. Now that the adrenaline was pumping, everything felt heightened, even more so than usual. Her skin felt taught, like a water balloon that had been filled up just a bit too much and the sound of their feet crunching against gravel was a thunderstorm in her ears. But it still wasn't enough to drown out that now familiar ringing noise of skitter machinery.

Then Dai's voice broke the mute cacophony. "We don't know the layout of this place," he breathed out between pants. "Or what we're walking into."

"Tell us something we don't know," Evelyn grumbled back.

"There's no time to worry about that," Maggie interjected with an unearthly calm.

The four of them slid along the wall with Tector taking point. They came to an unguarded side door, but Fate, the cruel, heartless bitch that she was, had locked it. They wordlessly moved past the door to the corner of the building. Tector held up a single hand, indicating for them to wait as he checked around the corner. After a quick scan of the area, he turned back to them with a dark grimace. Well, shit.

"Okay guys, here's the deal," he said tersely, losing the light-hearted, devil-may-care attitude he maintained in the camp. "We got two toasters guardin' a service entrance—looks like it's for delivery trucks. There's no fuckin' way we can get in through there. I'm lookin' for a plan B."

"We could blast them," Maggie suggested. "I've got a couple of grenades and Evelyn's always got duct tape for some damn reason."

"Nah," Dai added, shaking his head slightly. "Weaver said to keep it quiet. Our best shot's that window up there." He nodded his head indicating a second story window behind them, stationed next to a rusted-over chunk of twisted metal that used to be a fire escape.

Tector let out a loud scoff. "Are you fuckin' kiddin' me, Dai? Ain't no way I'm scalin' this building. I know my lithe physique migh fool ya on first glance, but I'm not a goddamn ninja."

The exchange went on, but Evelyn tuned them out, instead letting her eyes rake over the area in question. The others couldn't see them, but there were a number of foot holds—enough to make the suggestion vaguely plausible. "Let me try," she said suddenly, cutting them off. A brief silence fell over the group as she was met with concerned, vaguely patronizing stares.

"Listen, Carmen Sandiego," Tector said in a reasoning tone, "I know you're tight with the Masons but—"

"Look, I'm not trying to pull a stunt or something," she replied shortly, "and I'm not guaranteeing anything, but I think I can do it, and it's our best fucking shot. We don't have a lot of options, do we? I'll break in through the window, unlock the door from the inside."

There was a short pause and a round of nods. Evelyn gave a firm nod in return and scurried over to the wall below the window in question. Taking a deep breath, she narrowed her eyes, focusing in on the surface before her, and it was as if everything was sharpened. There were divots from stray bullets and cracks and slightly dislodged bricks. Throwing her rifle over her shoulder, she reached up, feeling the stone with her fingertips before they curled into the first hold. It wasn't much—all she could fit was to that first knuckle—but these days, for her, that was enough.

Evelyn slowly picked her way up the side of the wall until she found herself level with what remained of the fire escape, at least fifteen feet off the ground. Stretching her arm out as far as she could, her hand encircled the railing. It wasn't all that stable—she could feel the rust eating away at the metal—but she let go of the hold anyway and let herself swing through the air. It was a bit of a leap of faith. But of course, as usual, faith came back to bite her in the ass. The railing collapsed under her weight, sending her into a short freefall before colliding with the metal steps below. Ignoring the stinging pain in her chest where it connected with the stairs, she scrambled onto the platform.

The window wasn't hard to reach after she climbed to the second floor landing. Evelyn carefully threw her leg over the remaining railing and leaned over sliding it open. Finally something that wasn't locked. Bracing her forearm against the ledge, she pulled herself up and flipped through the window, doing a sad little tuck-and-roll like she was in a beginner's gymnastics class.

Evelyn remained still for half a moment, listening for any skitter activity, before swiftly moving down the stairs to the door, throwing the deadbolt into the unlocked position, and letting the door swing open. Tector, Dai, and Maggie stood on the other side, looking at her with surprise before silently slipping through the small crack she had allowed. Though Evelyn was fairly sure she heard Tector murmur the word 'Spiderman'.

Each keeping their eyes trained and guns trained, they moved through the hallways, clearing all of the corners as they slowly made their way through the labyrinth of corridors. Frustration began creeping up on Evelyn. The complex was enormous. It could be a good twenty minutes before they stumbled upon the right room, and twenty minutes could be too late.

Dai let out a small grunt of frustration. "They could be anywh—"

But he was promptly cut off when Evelyn raised her hand, indicating for him to stop talking. There was a noise in her ear. It was a whisper, but unlike any other whisper she had ever heard from a person. It had the same cadence of those recordings of whales they had played in one of those biology classes. She took a few steps forward towards closest corner, and the sound began to grow louder and clearer, emanating from down the hallway to her right. It bore a striking similarity to that sound that had woken her up the night Jimmy died.

"Does anyone else hear that?" she hissed.

"No," Maggie replied softly, coming up next to her. "What is it?"

"I think there's something down there," Evelyn said, not removing her eyes from the far end of the hall. Maggie moved forwards so they were both peering around the corner, and all of the sudden there was a flash of something—a shadow flitting by. Maggie turned around to Dai and Tector, jerking her head and indicating for them to follow.

They slid down the hallway, Tector and Dai pressed against one wall, Evelyn and Maggie against the other. The next hallway ended in a door, one that looked like those hatch doors in submarine movies with the round wheel that sealed the door shut, guarded by two skitters. It looked like some sort of boiler room or industrial area. Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut and opened her ears, and that whispering sound filled her ears. The two skitters—they were talking to each other. It was unintelligible but she could feel something in those sounds—those voices—and they were filled with something like anticipation and protectiveness and…..love. Love for the children that were behind that door, for the ones who were about to become part of their family. Evelyn wasn't sure whether to be touched or disgusted.

All of the sudden a hand clapped on her shoulder, making her start. "Hey," Maggie said harshly, breaking Evelyn out of her reverie. "You good?" Evelyn swallowed and nodded.

"Dollars for donuts the kids are behind that door," Tector muttered.

"We need to draw those skitters away from the door," Dai added, peering around the corner as well. "We need to take care of this quiet, avoid calling in the B Team."

Pulling a flashlight out of his pocket, Dai switched it on and off a few times. The flickering light drew the attention of one of the skitters. It moved slowly towards the source of the light, its feet clicking against the floor as it moved. Unsheathing the large knife he kept tucked in his belt, Dai launched himself at the skitter as soon as it came into his plane of view. He grabbed hold of its neck and with one swift, fluid movement he swung his arm upwards, driving it through the soft palate and into the brain, causing a thick black fluid to leak from the wound down his arm. The thing let out a single, pitiful squeal and crumpled to the ground and the whispering that had been ringing in her ears was snuffed out.

At the sound of its compatriot's death rattle, the other skitter was thrown into a state of alert and it began to scuttle forward, making an inquisitive ticking noise. When it caught sight of the crumpled figure of its friend, it let out a small shriek, no doubt about to inform the others the presence of intruders. Grabbing her own knife, Evelyn hurtled around the corner and threw herself at the skitter, mimicking Dai's motion. And then it was finally quiet.

After taking a quick sweep of the room, Evelyn gave the other three the thumbs-up and they moved into the open, making a beeline for the door. Dai and Tector grabbed hold of the wheel to the hatch, slowly twisting it open. Evelyn held her breath, wincing at the groaning of the metal as it scraped against itself. When they finally heard the clicking of the latch, the door swung open to reveal a dank, musty room with ominously flickering lights that smelled of rust, sweat, and blood.

The second they stepped into the room, they were confronted by the weak whimpers of small children. They were all lying flat on their stomachs, hands bound behind their backs with something that looked like zip-ties. The four of them grabbed their knives and set to work cutting them loose.

"They took the others away," Diego said desperately, his eyes roving wildly between them. "We need to go after them."

"We've got people on that already," Maggie replied shortly.

"But you've got to help them," he replied anxiously.

Evelyn stepped towards Diego and planted a foot on his back, forcing him to the ground as she cut through his ties. "It's being taken care of," she growled harshly into his ear, sliding the knife between his hands and sawing at the strong plastic. "Now why don't you do us all a favor and stick to the plan this time around? You get these kids out of here, get on those bikes, and—"

She was promptly cut off by the sound of automatic weapon fire.

"Sounds like the others already found them," Maggie supplied.

"Or something else found the others," Evelyn added fearfully. Once all the ties were cut, Evelyn stood up and surveyed the room. Most of the kids were there, but one of them was conspicuously absent. The one with the unruly, curly hair that was usually squashed down under a baseball cap. Evelyn felt her fist curl up into a tight ball so that her knuckles were straining against the skin.

"I don't see Matt."

None of the others seemed to hear her, instead getting all of the kids to their feet and ushering them to the door. Maggie swung the door open and looked down the hallway. There were flashing lights and that characteristic ticking sound was echoing against the walls, making it almost impossible to pinpoint the location. Maggie's jaw twitched and her expression became hard. "Fuck."

Evelyn sighed and pushed the hair out of her face. "They'll be heading towards the gunfire, not to us," she said in a steady voice. "The fire came from the opposite side of the building. It should give you a clear way to the door."

Evelyn grabbed the rifle she had swung or her back and gripped it tightly, cocking it and bringing it up to her shoulder, ready to fire. Maggie eyed her suspiciously. "Going somewhere, chickadee?"

"I need to find Matt, and with all the noise they're making up there, Weaver's going to need some backup. I'll hook up with them and meet you outside. You take care of the kids."

Maggie stared at her with an inscrutable expression. For a second Evelyn thought she was going to fight her on this, but instead the girl reached back and pulled out her spare handgun, grabbing it by the barrel and holding it out for her. "Handguns are better for close contact."

Evelyn reached out and curled her fingers around the grip, giving Maggie a reassuring nod before taking off in the direction of the shots.

"Follow me," Maggie said from somewhere behind her. "Don't look back."

Ignoring the scurrying sound of the absconding children, Evelyn crouched low to the ground, holding the handgun in one hand and her bloodstained knife in the other. It wasn't long before she saw some skitters—two of them, but they weren't moving down in the direction of the noise. For some reason they were moving in the opposite direction, headed right into the path Maggie and the others were taking. She crept up behind them, the shots distracting them from her presence, and raised the gun Maggie had just handed her. Two shots and they both fell to the ground. Evelyn smiled slightly as those anxious, sounds emanating from them were cut short, but what she found behind them caused the smile evaporate just as quickly as it had appeared.

Harnessed kids, about a dozen of them. The two skitters had been ushering them to safety in slow, shuffling movements. The lot of them, who had been absently shuffling along just a moment before, came to a thoroughly underwhelming halt. Evelyn's jaw dropped open slightly. She didn't know what to do with this, with the twelve effectively helpless children standing there with dull expressions.

She couldn't take them with her. The Second Mass was woefully low on medical supplies as it was and there was no way Anne had enough opiates to remove the harnesses from all of them. She would have to leave them. It made her sick to her stomach, but these days life was a system of net positives and negatives, and usually the best you could hope for was to break even. Their kids had been captured and now they were being rescued. They were maintaining the status quo. Anything more might break them.

Evelyn pushed herself through the unanimated husks of children, forcing herself not to look into any of their faces. She had almost managed to wade through them, shoving her way past like she was moving through reeds on a river bank, but then something caught her eye that gave her pause—dim light glinting off blonde hair.

What it was that caught her attention, Evelyn couldn't quite say. Call it intuition, luck, wishful thinking, self-delusion—it could be any one of those things. It was just a slight flash of light off the crown of a girl's head, but upon closer inspection that blonde hair was parted straight down the middle and pulled into two braids that once must have been neat, but now were frayed with bits of hair sticking out every which-way, hanging limply just above that gigantic, intergalactic slug that had fused itself to the girl's spine. The face was turned away from her.

Shoving the other children out to the way with more force than was probably necessary, Evelyn made her way to that small figure. She grasped the girl's arm and spun her around almost violently before seizing her shoulders and forcing her still. Below that ragged fringe of bangs she saw big, blue, deceptively innocent eyes.

"Amy?"

Evelyn didn't know why she expected the girl to look at her or to show some spark of recognition. The eyes that usually held a well-veiled expression of mischief stared unseeingly past her, as if she wasn't there at all. But it was still Amy. Or at least a shadow of her. She had been stripped of those last vestiges of baby fat, leaving her with hollow cheeks and surprisingly angular cheekbones and a blank, emotionless expression on her face. Evelyn wanted a snarky or rude or privacy-invading comment to drop from the girl's lips as easily as they had done in the past, but she just stood there like a doll waiting to be appropriately positioned.

Ripping herself out of the semi-fugue state her discovery had created, and realized that there was no shooting any more. That meant things could have either gone well or terribly. Regardless, it meant it was time for her to go. The knife in her hand was hastily shoved back into its it sheath at her waist and hoisted the girl over her shoulder with one arm without any resistance, and made her way to the exterior of the building, keeping Maggie's handgun at the ready.

Evelyn encountered absolutely no resistance as she jogged towards the exit, Amy's compliant figure smacking into her back every time her feet hit the ground. She could hear scuttling noises of oncoming skitters like water trickling over rocks, but it was far enough off for her to make it out of the factory with plenty of time. That not of fear and anxiety in the pit of her stomach began to unwind as she came closer to the door. She was about to let out a sigh of relief as she turned the last corner, but any morsel of relief she could muster up was blown to bits. Standing directly in front of the door, almost as if it was waiting for her, was the skitter with the red eye.

The sound of rubber scraping against concrete echoed against the walls as she skidded to a halt. Evelyn stood there for a moment, frozen, staring into the face of the creature that had inflicted immeasurable pain upon her, upon Tom, and upon an untold number of others. Snapping out of the momentary trance, she lifted her gun and pointed it directly at the things head. The skitter didn't respond. It didn't move, it didn't flinch, it just cocked its head to the side and stared at her, much like it did that day she and Tom got off the ship—the day it had killed over a dozen people, but let the two of them live.

All she had to do was pull in the index finger of her right hand and the thing would be gone—erased from the face of the planet. But she didn't. Something stopped her. There was a whisper coming from that skitter, and it sounded a lot like solidarity.

The skitter shifted to the side and placed one of its scaled hands on the door handle and pushed it open. And then two clear words rang in her head. It was her own voice, but it was like they had been summoned up and shoved into the forefront of her mind. Her brain was picking up on a wavelength, and converting it to something her mind could comprehend, as if there was some translation device in her brain. _Go. Fight._

Almost involuntarily, Evelyn felt her arm drop. Her eyes never left the skitter as she walked through the door, but it didn't make a move against her. Looking over her shoulder, she afforded the thing one last glance before it closed the door between them. There was a loud click as the deadbolt was thrown back into its position, leaving her wondering what exactly had just happened.

Turning her back on the factory, Evelyn sprinted back in the direction of truck, narrowly avoiding a mech sentry as she dodged behind he concrete pillars of the underpass. The others seemed to have already made it out and the dull buzz of fleeing motorcycles filled the air, mixing with muffled shouts of those still waiting.

"Come on, people," Weaver's distinct, gruff voice rang out. "We've got to move out. Do we have everyone?"

"Evey's not here," Ben responded in a curiously bewildered-sounding voice.

"We can't wait forever," he growled back. "They'll be bearin' down on us soon en—"

"You guys can go," Hal interjected. "Weaver's got to get some medical attention. I'll hang back, wait for her to show up."

"And what if she doesn't?" Tom added hesitantly.

Evelyn rolled her eyes internally as she jogged up to the truck. "Oh, ye of little faith," she breathed out, approaching the car. "I thought you knew better than to give up on me by now, Tom."

All the eyes snapped to her as she approached the car, moving out of the shadows of the overpass.

"About time you got here," Weaver grumbled, hobbling in her direction, favoring his left foot. "Ian, Maggie, and Tector took off on the bikes a few minutes back. Now that we've got all our men…" His voice trailed off and his initially pained face swiftly altered to confusion when he saw what she was carrying. "What the hell is this?"

"We've got another passenger," she replied shortly, flopping the unnaturally light body onto the ground. A stunned silence fell over them as they took in the sight. Hal jumped from his position sitting on the hood of the truck and took a few steps towards her, staring with disbelieving eyes. "Is that—?"

"Amy," Ben finished for him coming up beside Evelyn and crouching over the living but lifeless body.

"We can have a reunion when we get back to camp!" Weaver interrupted harshly, his voice regaining its authority.

After that was a flurry of scraping feet and slamming doors. Tom, Weaver, and Dai slid into the front seat with Dai behind the wheel while Ben and Hal each grabbed Amy under one of her arms, hauling her into the bed of the truck. Evelyn quickly scrambled in after them as Dai started the car.

The four of them sat in the back of the truck, Hal and Evelyn leaning their backs against one side, Ben and Amy leaning against the other. Evelyn studied the both of them carefully as the truck bumped along that unpaved road. Amy was still staring at nothing with that dead look, arms lying limply at her sides. Slowly but surely, Ben's hand migrated from its place in his lap until it covered hers and squeezed it tightly. She didn't react of course, but his hand stayed there, refusing to let it go.

"You forget sometimes, don't you?" Hal said suddenly.

Evelyn turned to look at him, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Forget what?"

"That good things can happen."

He was right. This time around they didn't just break even. They had gotten something. It was a net positive.

"Yeah," she murmured, dragging her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "Yeah, I guess so."

Evelyn wanted to let herself celebrate, to give in to pure, unbridled, giddy happiness, but she couldn't. It was the suspicious look Hal kept giving Ben, it was the uncertainty of whether or not they would actually get Amy back, it was those two words echoing in her head—all these things kept the joy at bay. The wolf was always at the door, it just stopped scratching at the wood every once in a while.

Hal was right, good things could still happen. But those good things always seemed to come with an asterisk.

**Alright, time for me to beg for reviews so…..please review. I want to know whether you like this or not. Reviews keep me motivated and help me make this story better, so please share your thoughts. Pretty please.  
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**Cheers!**

**It Belongs In A Museum**


	23. Hellos and Goodbyes

**DISCLAIMER: I do not have and scruffy little beard. Therefore I am not Steven Spielberg and do not own 'Falling Skies'. Any familiar dialogue is taken from the show.**

**Photos of OCs, soundtracks, are on my profile and the soundtrack is saved as chapter two of the story 'Falling Skies Soundtracks'.**

**A big thank you to LucyRider17, StardustIsMagic, fallingskierock, Guest, Geekman-1, and Cowgirlforever12 for your reviews.**

Chapter 22 – Hellos and Goodbyes

Leaning against the wheel of a Winnebago didn't seem like the best place to get a good night's sleep. Hell it was probably one of the worse choices Evelyn could have made, and most of the choices were pretty crappy to begin with. But that didn't mean she was going to leave. According to her watch it was four in the morning, and she still had no intention of moving from that spot. Sleep wasn't exactly the endgame, anyway. All she knew was that she was going to be right there, ready for Amy to wake up if—when—she did. If being there at that exact moment meant sitting in the cold and the dirt, then she would do it. She owed the girl that much. And probably a lot more.

Their arrival at camp had left Evelyn with a funny sort of feeling. The way they drove in to camp, a caravan of bikes, mopeds, and that one, sad little truck following behind—it was kind of like they were part of a parade, only there was no laughing, no joy, none of that general festive behavior one would typically associate with parades. That love of life was something that seemed to be lacking these days. Maybe it was because life itself was so fucking difficult. You had to fight tooth and claw for each moment—it didn't allow all that much time for revelry.

Evelyn's parents had taken her down to Mardi Gras once when she was little—Julia wanted to be part of that year's debutante bullshit. She had spent most of the time closed off in a high-up hotel room, but one of the parades went by on the street right next to her. She could remember pressing her face up against the glass so that her nose left wide smudges on the clear surface and staring at the bright colors as they passed her by. She could remember wishing and wanting so badly to be on that street below with everybody else. The girls had all looked like princesses and the glinting of the sun off those beads as they sailed through the air made her think that they were actually jewels. Of course now that she was older she realized that those princesses were drunk sorority chicks and those beads were made of plastic, but it didn't detract from the fact that that moment was one of pure, unadulterated celebration. That happy memory made her sad now, because now she wasn't sure if she'd ever witness a moment like that again.

After the parade pulled into camp, Weaver had been the first one in the medical bus. He was the one that needed the immediate attention. At first Evelyn hadn't had any idea what it was that happened to him-she had assumed it was a sprain or something—but as soon as the man stepped into the light she could see that a massive chunk had been taken out of his lower leg, like he had been mauled by some sort of creature. With the exception of the borderline malnutrition most of them suffered from these days, Amy was fine. Other than that giant parasite she had glued to her back, of course. It was an hour or so before Weaver hobbled out to his tent and she was the next one on the table. Ben had insisted on bringing her in, but as soon as he put her down on that table, he disappeared into the darkness. She wasn't sure why he done that. Maybe it brought up bad memories. Maybe he just didn't want to think about her on that table. Anyways, that was when Evelyn had sat in the dirt, leaned against the tire, and started her waiting, judging the passing of time by the slight variations in the blackness of the sky.

Evelyn could have stayed in the medical bus. The bus had another bed, she could have lain down and watched comfortably waiting for Anne to finish the procedure and for Amy to wake up. But for some reason she couldn't make herself go inside. It was probably the same nondescript feeling that drove Ben off too. There was something about seeing somebody you care about laid out like that on a table—weak, vulnerable—that made you feel sick.

Despite her best efforts, Evelyn must have fallen asleep for at least some not insignificant period of time. She almost wouldn't have noticed it if the sky hadn't changed color like that. To her it seemed to happen in the space of a second. When she closed her eyes everything the washed-out dull grey of the early morning, and when she opened them again the world was soaked in the golden yellow of the late afternoon. In the interim somebody had shoved a makeshift pillow fashioned from a wadded up sweatshirt behind her head. Groaning loudly and squeezing her eyes shut, Evelyn twisted her neck, wincing slightly at the chorus of popping noises that rang in her ears as her vertebrae snapped back into place. When she opened her eyes again, a man in a wheelchair had suddenly teleported in front of her.

"Is it true?" a harsh, gravelly yet gentle voice asked, snapping her out of the haze of sleepiness.

"Max?" she asked quietly, her voice cracking in her throat from the thirst.

"Aw, you remembered, Lyn," he demanded in a familiar sarcastic tone, wheeling up closer to her. "I'm touched. You've been so busy with all this other shit I was beginning to think you forgot about little old me."

"How could I forget?" she asked, pushing herself up from the position she had slid down into while she slept and rubbing at the back of her neck to work out the cricks. "Somebody who's as much of a pain in the ass as you are tends to be memorable."

"Wow, the rumors are true," he said, wheeling so that he was sitting next to her. "You do wake up sarcastic."

"I like to give the people what they want," she replied, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands.

"Nobody likes a smartass, Lyn," he muttered in return.

"Sure they do," she said, patting the knee that was level with her head. "In movies the smartass is everyone's favorite character. That's why we get along so well isn't it? The 2nd Mass is a giant gaggle of smartasses."

"You didn't answer my question," he said, reaching down and messing with her hair. "Is it true? Has the mini-Lyn come back into our lives?"

Evelyn sighed and ran her hands down her face. Her eyes ached from dryness and the lack of sleep, like someone had snuck up on her and rubbed sand in her eyes while she was sleeping. But the exhaustion that she felt—the one that penetrated deep into her bones—wasn't from lack of sleep or the physical exertion. It was because she didn't know how to answer that damn question.

"Her body's here," she whispered harshly. "Can't say much about anything else. There won't be anything to say until it's all over with."

She could feel Max staring down at the top of her head, like he was trying to bore into her brain or light her head on fire with his wizardly powers. Max always had the uncanny ability to tell when something was wrong. It was a talent she had historically found particularly frustrating, but these days it was less impressive. Something was always wrong.

"They say doctor-lady Anne's done this a few times," he said, his voice both encouraging and entreating at the same time. "There are about half a dozen kids who used to be vegetables running around this place, but their spikes went away. Ben and this other kid Rick are the only ones who got stuck with them. She's the real deal."

"She is," Evelyn murmured hesitantly, "but she's not the only variable that needs to be taken into account. We're low on medical supplies, she's had that thing on her back for a long, long time, there's—"

"Why the fuck are you looking for things to go wrong?" Max demanded, smacking her on the back of her head. "I know a lot of shit's gone down, but when did you turn into this? When did you become this?"

Evelyn let out a soft, bitter laugh. "Become what, Max?"

She glanced up at him only to find him staring down at her with a look approaching pity. "Hopeless. When did you become so hopeless."

Letting out another laugh, Evelyn pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. "Don't you know, Max? Hope is for the living. That's not me anymo—"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Lyn!" he almost shouted in response. "Why the hell—"

"Don't interrupt me when I'm monologueing at you," she shot back. It was probably more aggressive than necessary, but it shut him up. Groaning loudly, she kicked at the dirt beneath her feet, causing it to rise up in a cloud and settle on her skin and in her hair. She didn't bother wiping it away, though. Everything was so damned dirty in this brave new world of theirs it wouldn't have made much of a difference. "There's really no hope for me, because there's nothing to invest in. Hope is for the people with a future, and I haven't got one. I'm stuck with pragmatism. Leave it to people like Tom to dream up a pretty future. Leave it to people like me to wade through all the messy shit to get us as close to that dream as possible. Sometimes you've got to look around and face the facts. Some things don't work out. However much you want them to."

Max let out a loud scoff. "You've gone emo," he replied shortly. "The fucking poster-girl for teenage angst. What you're talking about sounds less like pragmatism and more like pessimism."

"Yeah," she drawled out sardonically, "a lot of the time they're the exact same thing. And my angst is wise for its age."

He didn't say anything else. She just felt a hand drop to her shoulder and squeeze it comfortingly, but Evelyn could almost feel the worry seeping into her body through his fingers. It was like it was diffusing into her. And she could understand why, though she didn't agree with it. It wasn't any inherent darkness inside of her that made her think like this. Once again, it was practicality—experience. Expectation leads to disappointment. Prepare for the worst and when something good happens, the joy will be all that much more. Though that philosophy did tend to drag someone into the type of melancholy pontificating she was engaging in now. Maybe she had gone emo. All that was left to do now was slam her head against a wall over and over again, yelling the word 'angst' at the top of her lungs. But that didn't mean she was going to change anything. Grief was less painful and poignant if you had already started grieving.

"Is she getting all mopy again?" a voice asked from off to the left. Evelyn groaned again as the familiar sound of heels scraping against gravel assaulted her ears. Closing her eyes, she sighed and leaned her head back against the Winnebago. She was not in the mood to be tag-teamed by a couple of well meaning idiots. She was just too tired. After a few scuffling noises, she felt someone slide down the metal surface behind her until the two of them were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder.

"Anne's done this before," Hal said, handing her a plate of food he had brought with him before digging into his own gloppy mess of beans and rice. "She'll be able to do it again. If anybody can, it's her."

"See," Max replied, smacking her over the head. "Even Chachi over there's hoping for the best."

"Who the hell are you calling Chachi?" Hal replied, glowering at Max.

"Nothing!" Max said, raising his hands in submission. "I didn't day anything at all. I'm being understanding and sympathetic and all the other adjectives the ladies seem to like so much."

"Anyways," Hal continued, glowering at Max, "Anne's the best of the best. It might take a bit of time, but it'll all work out in the end. It took Ben over a day to wake up when his was removed."

Evelyn exhaled sharply, running her hands down her face. "I guess I'm going to be here a long time then."

Upon mentioning his brother, Hal seemed to clam up, a strange and sudden tension filling his body. An awkward silence hung over the three of them as they sat there in a line, their backs pressed against the Winnebago, Hal and Evelyn eating their beans and Max just staring off into the distance. But however quiet they were being, Evelyn couldn't help but feel like she was being shouted at. Not in a hostile or aggressive way, but in a panicked one. Hal kept glancing over at her, like there was something he desperately wanted to say, but wasn't sure if he should. Max, picking up on he strange wavelength emanating from the boy, cleared his throat awkwardly and pushed his wheelchair away from the Winnebago and turned to face them.

"I've got to go check in on Weaver," he said in a voice that was not entirely convincing. "There's a lot of work to be done before we move out in a few days, and with him out of commission, it's all hands on deck." He fixed Evelyn with a serious stare. "You come and find me the minute that little idiot wakes up," he said, jabbing his finger in the direction of the med bus.

"I'm not going anywhere until I talk to her first," Evelyn replied.

"Well then you better fucking send someone else to find me instead," he growled back, raising his eyebrows at her dangerously.

"Aye, aye captain," she said, giving him a sardonic salute, but at the same time shooting him a look of complete sincerity. Max pressed his lips together in a thin, firm line and gave a curt nod before spinning around and wheeling himself away, leaving Hal and Evelyn alone. The second Max was out of earshot she turned to face him, but he was staring intently down at his plate of food.

"Hal?" she asked, waving her hand in front of his face. "What's going on, Hal? What's wrong?"

"Who said there's anything wrong?" he grumbled back through a mouth full of food.

Rolling her eyes heavily, Evelyn grabbed the plate from him, ignoring his protests, and tossed it to the side. "The constipated expression on your face is telling me there's something wrong," she said, her voice thick with exasperation. What was it about guys that always made them feel like they had to be stoic in the face of adversity. Evelyn stared at Hal's profile and took in his appearance. He looked older than he usually did, like someone with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Which generally meant one thing. "Is it Ben?"

He let out a bitter snort before finally turning to face her fully. "How did you guess?"

"When is it not Ben?" she returned with a wry smile. "Who would have thought that out of all the Mason clan the one causing the most problems would be the kid who thought of going to the library as a recreational activity?"

"What?" Hal replied, smiling faintly. "Are you saying you think I should have been the one causing trouble?"

"Of course," Evelyn replied, elbowing him in the side as well. "In any universe other than this one. High school lacrosse jock? You would have been all kinds of trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" he asked, his smile widening a bit.

"Oh, the best kind," she said, narrowing her eyes at him playfully and smiling as well. But then the smile faded from her face as her mind wandered back to the topic at hand. The one more important that the flirting they always ended up engaging in. "Hal, what's going on with Ben? You've been looking at him strangely ever since we got back from the harnessing station. What happened in there?"

Hal sighed heavily and scratched at the back of his neck, staring blindly out in front of him. There was worry etched into the lines of his face, but that wasn't the part that troubled Evelyn. No, worry was something she was used to seeing on Hal's face, hidden behind the jovial smiles. There was something else there now-something different. There was blame. He kept shooting her these sidelong glances that made her feel oddly hollow inside. She wanted to fix whatever it was that was wrong, but that was beyond her ability. So she did the next best thing she could think of and covered his hand with hers, gripping it tightly to give him some modicum of support. Hal squeezed her hand back and nodded, almost like he was agreeing with all of her words left unsaid.

"Something happened to him in there," he said in a low whisper. "We were in this-this room. It had these tables laid out with the kids strapped onto them face down with these weird slide things above them. I think the harnesses slid down them onto the kids' backs. And then near the back of the room there was this...tank. It was like some sort of fucked up aquarium filled with dozens or maybe even hundreds of the harnesses just swimming around."

"Okay," Evelyn said, biting her lip and nodding along with his words. "That's freaky and everything, but what has it got to do with Ben?"

"I'm getting to that bit," Hal sighed out. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before he started talking again, like he really didn't want to say the next bit out loud. "Ben was...drawn towards the tank," he finally continued. "He turned into some sort of zombie and started walking towards it and the way he was looking at the harnesses...I could swear it they were talking to him or something. His spikes started glowing blue, and then he flipped out and started shooting at the tank. It was like he was possessed."

When Hal stopped speaking he glanced back at her expecting some sort of response, but she didn't have one to give. She was more preoccupied with the idea that Ben was talking to the harnesses. Because that wasn't so different than what had happened to her was it? She had spoken with the red-eyed skitter, or had been spoken to at the very least. Did that mean that she and Ben were the same? No, that much had already been established. As strong as she was now, he was still stronger and faster, but whether that meant he was better off or worse off was still yet to be determined. Despite all those differences in their situations, Evelyn still felt as if Ben's secret was hers as well, and talking to Hal about it made her feel like she was lying. She hated lying to the people she cared about-it always left her with a vaguely sick sensation in her stomach-but sometimes it seemed as if that was all she was doing these days.

"We've always known those spikes come with...side effects," she said hesitantly, nervously digging a small hole in the dirt with the toe of her boot.

"Yeah," Hal said through a bitter laugh. "The super-strength, the spidey senses, I was weirded out enough by that in the first place. It was useful though, so I kind of shoved all that aside. But now he's getting people hurt. Weaver's leg? That happened because of what he did in that room."

"He was trying to kill the harnesses, Hal," Evelyn said, trying to reason with him. "Those could have hurt a lot of people. He hates the skitters more than anyone. You told me that."

"But he's racking up a hell of a lot of collateral damage in the process isn't he?" Hal immediately bit back with more aggressiveness than she had anticipated, startling her a bit. "He shot you and dad, he was the only one there when Jimmy was killed, he got Weaver injured. Hell, he was the only one there when Amy was-"

"No," Evelyn said, shaking her head fervently. "Don't put that stuff on him. He blames himself to begin with, especially with Amy. He's been in that med bus with her since she got here. And what happened to me, Tom, and Weaver...those were all accidents. Same with Jimmy."

"That's exactly my point," Hal muttered darkly. "He's been having a lot of accidents lately, especially for someone as well trained. Maybe there's something in him making the accidents happen, like manipulating him or something. He might know he's doing it."

Evelyn bit the inside of her cheek until it began to bleed. She couldn't disagree with Hal on that point because she had the same worries, only they were directed at herself as well as Ben. "Have you ever considered talking to him?" she said casually. "Like just walking up to him and saying 'Hey, Ben, what's with the glowing spikes in your neck? Are you trying to throw a one-person rave?' Something along those lines." The blank look that crossed Hal's face made her laugh in spite of the gravity of the discussion they were having. "What is it with guys and this 'no talking' rule? The lot of you act like emotionally constipated idiots. You've all got to be John Wayne. I swear it causes more problems than it solves. The two of you are taking watch tonight. Just ask him. You might feel better about it afterwards."

"I might feel worse," he said through a heavy sigh, rubbing eyes with the heels of his hands.

Evelyn patted his arm comfortingly. "Well that's just a risk you've got to take."

"Thanks, mom," Hal groaned, rolling his eyes at her. "Can I have my food back now?"

"Only if you promise to eat all of your vegetables," Evelyn replied, raising a single eyebrow at him.

The two of them sat and ate their food in silence. It wasn't one of those uncomfortable silences, though. They had become accustomed enough to each other's presence that they didn't really need to fill silences with stilted small talk anymore. Especially when there were so many problems to think about, one of which were in the bus they were leaning on. Evelyn was stuck with a sickening worry that Amy wouldn't wake up. Or that, when she did, she would be different too. Or that Hal was right about Ben and, by association, her. She hadn't hurt anyone yet-hell, she had even helped on more than one occasion-but she couldn't help but sit there and analyze every single one of her actions since she got back to the 2nd Mass, looking for some kind of indication that she was no good. It was her own brand-new version of hypochondria. She didn't even need WebMD.

Evelyn wasn't sure how long the two of them sat there, wallowing in their own crises, but it didn't take too much time before Ian emerged, swaggering towards them with a new lightness. Finding his kids had snapped him back into his happy-go-lucky factory settings. He was practically glowing. "Hola compadres!" he drawled out happily. "How goes things on this, the most beautiful of days?"

"Stop smiling so damn much," Evelyn groaned moodily. "All that joy makes me feel like I'm staring into the sun, and not in a good way."

"You know I can't turn it off, squirt," Ian smirked back. "I just look that good." He held out a hand and Evelyn took it, letting him haul her to her feet.

"You look like an overgrown cabbage patch kid," she said, laughing lightly.

"Puh-leeze," he said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. "I look like fuckin' Steve McQueen."

"If he caught leprosy and an elephant sat on his face," Hal grumbled, clambering up to his feet.

"You see that," Ian said smugly, snapping his fingers and pointing at Hal. "That's jealousy on account of the fact that I have all the luck with the ladies."

"Yeah, you're a real Casanova," Evelyn replied sarcastically, smacking his hand away. "What's going on?"

Another wide smile crossed Ian's face, but this time it was tinged with sadness. "I'm afraid this is my Swan Song, ladies and gents," he said, holding his arms out wide.

Evelyn blinked at him in confusion. "What are you talking about."

"He's leaving," Hal interrupted, making Evelyn's head snap around so that she was looking at him. Returning her gaze evenly, Hal just shrugged and inclined his head towards Ian. "That is what you're saying isn't it? You're not coming with the 2nd Mass when we move on."

"Well I was tryin' ta give it a little color," he scoffed back, "but yeah, that's the long an' short of it."

Evelyn turned back to him with a doubtful expression. "Ian, please just think abo—"

He held up a hand, cutting off her entreaty. "Decision's made, squirt. Ain't nothing you can do to change it. And don't go spoutin' off that usual crap about double negatives. We're leavin' for the mountains tonight. Done and settled. If I learned anythin' from all this crap with Diego, it's that my merry band of misfits ain't cut out for a fight. We're a bunch of survivors, not warriors."

On the outside Ian wasn't a very serious guy, but once he had settled on something there really was no changing his mind on the matter. That was that, done and settled, and from the firm expression on his face Evelyn could tell that now was one of those times. "Okay," she said quietly, nodding slightly. "Okay, you run off to the mountains and play Sasquatch, but remember this: if you die, I will fucking kill you."

"Well then it's a good thing I've got no intention of dyin' then, isn't it?" he replied patting her on the head condescendingly. He stared at her for a moment before shifting uncomfortably on his feet and swearing loudly. "Goddamnit, squirt, you know I'm shit at sayin' goodbye an' all that. So how's about I just say 'sayonara' an' have that be it?"

Evelyn snorted fondly and shook her head. "That's Japanese for 'goodbye'."

"Since when do you speak fuckin' Japanese!" Ian exclaimed loudly, groaning in frustration and glowering at her. "How's about 'see ya later', then? Have ya got any problems with that one?"

Evelyn's scrunched up her face in consideration before nodding. "Yeah," she replied. "That sounds good to me. I hate endings and finality and all that. Best to leave things open ended."

Stepping forwards Evelyn wrapped her arms around Ian's neck and pulled him into a tight hug. Ian's arms wrapped around her middle, yanking her even closer into a bear hug before hoisting her off the ground and spinning her in a circle before planting her feet back on the ground. He took a step back and grasped her shoulders, holding her in place. "Stay out of trouble, squirt," he said, leaning down and kissing her on the forehead. "Don't fuck up too badly. And stay away from the sangria."

She offered up a sad smile and pushed herself up on her tiptoes, kissing him on the cheek. "See you later, Steely O'Neely," she said, giving him a light-hearted salute. "I'm going to miss all of your idiotic rants."

Ian punched her lightly on the shoulder and turned to Hal. "Mason," he said gruffly, holding out his hand. "It wasn't horrible meetin' ya, an' you're not too much of an asshole."

Hal let out a light laugh and grasped Ian's hand, giving it a firm shake. "I could say the same about you."

Evelyn rolled her eyes and scratched at her forehead. Why were guys such idiots?

"Well," she said, clapping them both on the shoulder, "if that's not a Hallmark card, I don't know what is."

Ian looked between Evelyn and Hal one last time and gave a single, determined nod. "Alright then, I guess I'm off," he said as a strange look crossed his face. "It's all a bit anti-climactic really. But I guess that'll change when I find my sweet Maggie and plant a big, sloppy kiss on her."

Evelyn let out a spluttering cough and stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Are you serious, Ian?" she demanded. "That is not going to end well for you."

Ian glanced around conspiratorially and leaned in, beckoning for her to lean in as well. "I'll let you in on a little secret, squirt," he whispered. "The best things in life never end well."

Without another word, Ian did an about face and marched off into the distance, leaving Evelyn and Hal alone again, watching him go. He was right. It was a bit of an anti-climactic goodbye, but she was glad of it. These days the goodbyes that had any sort of closure to them usually involved somebody dying, and she was sick of watching people die. His figure was getting smaller and smaller until all of the sudden he stopped. Ian dodged past a few random pedestrians until he found one in particular—one with long, blonde hair. Maggie. He grabbed her by the waist, spun her into a dip, and smashed his lips into hers.

"Holy shit!" Evelyn shouted, clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle back the giddy and slightly worried laughter. She glanced over at Hal, who was doubling over, his face turning red from the wheezing laughs forcing their way out of his lungs. Evelyn tugged on his sleeve eagerly as they watched on. Maggie quickly forced herself into the upright position, drew her arm back, and punched Ian hard in the face, making him stumble back a few feet before stomping off herself. Evelyn smiled and shook her head at him pityingly. "Oh, that's definitely going to bruise."

Ian rubbed at his jaw and turned back to the her and Hal, beaming and giving them a thumbs up. "Totally worth it!" he shouted over to them.

"You're lucky she didn't shoot you!" Evelyn shouted back. Ian just shrugged and continued on his merry way.

"You know, I think I'm actually going to miss that jackass," Hal said, folding his arms across his chest and giving Ian an appraising look. "Say what you want, but he definitely knows how to go for it."

"Yeah," Evelyn said through a bark of laughter. "He's a numbers player. Takes a lot of shots and gets shot down a lot. The skin on the left side of his face is all leather-ed and rough from the number of times he's gotten slapped. The hit and run makeout session doesn't work out all that well when you're not a drunk sorority chick."

The two of them began snickering loudly. Evelyn rubbed at her eyes, wiping away the tears of laughter that were beginning to form in the corners of her eyes. But then she glanced over at Hal and the second she made eye contact, the laughter suddenly died on her breath. There was something in the way that he was looking at her that made her seize up. All that talk about kissing, and suddenly he was looking at her the same way he was that night she was pretty sure he almost kissed her. His gaze traveling down her face and resting momentarily on her lips before flicking back up to her eyes again. All of the sudden he shook his head, like he was breaking himself out of some sort of trance, and looked down at his watch and sighed. "I should get going," he muttered, clearing his throat. "I've got to go on watch with Ben."

"Okay," Evelyn said a little bit too quickly, pursing her lips slightly. "Look, Hal, I know it's against all of your manly sensibilities but will you please try and-"

"Okay, okay, I'll talk to him," Hal interrupted, holding his hands up defensively as he backed away from her. "Why do you always have to be so fucking reasonable, Evey?"

Evelyn folded her arms across her chest and raised her eyebrows at him. "It's not my fault I'm smarter than you."

Hal let a bark of laughter and then walked away himself, in the same direction as Ian. As he left, Evelyn felt her stomach drop, leaving her with a hollow feeling. There was no shortage of things to worry and obsess about-her and Hal, Hal and Ben. Out of those two choice, she opted for worrying about Hal and Ben. It was easier to think up solutions to problems when they weren't actually your problems. But just because it wasn't her problem didn't mean it didn't leave her with that twisted knot of panic. Watching what was happening to him and Ben was like watching a slow-motion car crash. Hal wasn't looking out for Ben anymore, he was studying him. He was looking for actions he considered 'wrong' or 'off' and dissecting each and every one of those actions, building them up in his head until they spelled disaster. The worst part of it was that she wasn't entirely sure he was wrong.

After a few moments, it occurred to Evelyn that she was simply standing there, in an open clearing, staring out into the distance and attracting more than a few curious stares. She hadn't left that twenty foot radius all day. It was a bit masochistic really, staying so close to the girl but not letting herself see her. It was almost as if her brain wouldn't let herself accept the possibility that the small body lying on that table was actually Amy until she had guaranteed proof. No hope, just reality-what she could hear and see and touch. But then again these days her senses seemed to be betraying her as well.

Evelyn forced herself to look at the stairs leading into the medical bus. She had gone up and down those few steps dozens or even hundreds of times, but in that moment they seemed ominous to her, leading into the unknown. One foot in front of the other, that was the way to do it. Her feet were heavy as she lifted them and she felt like something was obstructing her as she moved, as if the air had turned to jello and she was forcing her way through it. When she finally made it into the Winnebago, it looked just about the same as it always did. All of the surfaces were stained, but sterile, all of the instruments and medications were packed away in Ziplocs and Tupperware, the simple white curtain pulled forwards to obscure the patient, and there was a warm, kind brunette tending to the sick.

"Hey!" Lourdes said brightly from the other side of the bus where she was sorting through the meager supplies they had left. "Look who finally decided to wake up. You were out for like ten hours. I really don't know how you can just sleep anywhere like that."

"Yeah," Evelyn said through a bark of laughter. "It's a carefully honed skill. After spending a month or two sleeping on the ground with rocks digging into your back you can just check out pretty much anywhere. Where's Anne?"

"Oh, she left a few hours ago," Lourdes said, waving a hand dismissively. "She needed some sleep after everything with Weaver and Amy."

Lourdes continued to chatter on in a tired but happy voice. Evelyn didn't pay her much mind though. Instead she moved so she was standing directly in front of the white curtain. She pulled slightly at the material, running it between her fingers. She was right on the other side. Amy was right on the other side. All she had to do was yank it to the side and there she would be. But for some reason she couldn't stop staring at one small brown stain that looked vaguely like Elvis playing the saxophone.

All of the sudden a small hand gripped Evelyn's shoulder, making her start. Lourdes warm, friendly face appeared next to her. "It went well," the small girl said, giving Evelyn's arm a reassuring pat. "There's no reason to think that she won't wake up."

"I know," Evelyn mumbled in response. "I just prefer not to think of things in terms of certainties."

The hand patted her arm a second time. Evelyn was beginning to feel like somebody's pet or mascot or something, the number of times she had been patted and petted within the last few hours. "I know we've talked about this before, and I know that you don't think the same way as I do, but God takes care of all of his children. Especially the innocents. You might try praying for her. It might do you both some good."

Evelyn bit down on her lip and tried not to say anything. Lourdes was just doing what she always did, trying to help, but she kept picking the wrong audience. It was the definition of insanity, doing the same thing over and over again while expecting a different result. But for all of her stubbornness, insanity, or whatever the hell you wanted to call it, everything she did was driven by good intentions, which was more than Evelyn could say for herself. She often doubted that she had the best of intentions. She had too many secrets—dangerous secrets—to say that of herself.

"Do you think I could watch her for a while?" Evelyn asked suddenly. "You could get yourself some food or something. I just—I wouldn't mind some time alone with her if that's okay."

Lourdes paused a moment, gaping slightly, before snapping her mouth shut and nodding. "Alright. Alright, take all the time you need."

Evelyn could hear the other girl walk down the length of the bus and walk down the stairs, but she kept staring at that stupid fucking stain and rubbing the fabric, feeling the weave. Eventually she gathered up the curtain into her fist and yanked it to the side, revealing the small figure that had been messing with her head so much the past few hours.

It was almost as if Amy was simply asleep—she was one of those weird ones who slept on their stomach—and that soft snoring noise was coming out of her adorable little button nose of hers. Amy looked peaceful. Her face was relaxed and calm. Now that Evelyn thought about it, it was the first time she actually looked like a kid. But then again, morphine did have a way of bringing out childishness, and Amy was coming down from a pretty big high. The little girl would have been pristine, the subject of some impressionist painting, if it weren't for the angry black spikes sticking out of her spine just below where her blonde hair was parted into those adorable little braids.

Pulling up a chair, Evelyn sat down next to the girl, resting her elbows on her knees and holding her chin in her hands. What was it that Amy had asked about the spikes all those months ago when she had introduced her to Ben? Right, she had asked if she could pluck out 'Mary Had A Little Lamb' like on the xylophone. Evelyn reached out a hand and tapped a finger lightly against the tips of the spikes. Nope, no music. She ran her hand across the top, brushing them lightly. They quivered slightly under her touch, almost as if they themselves were alive. Well, that wasn't very comforting.

Evelyn continued to run her hand back and forth, wondering what the hell those things were and what they did, when a weak, strained voice reached her ears.

"You're supposed to buy a girl dinner first when you get all handsy like that."

Evelyn jumped back, overturning the chair with a loud crashing noise, and the weak voice turned into a weak, vaguely sadistic laugh. "This is why we can't have nice things," came out a cracked singsong voice.

A bark of laughter forced it's way out of Evelyn's mouth and she scrambled forwards so that she was kneeling at the head of the table, close to Amy's face and found bleary red eyes staring back. "Amy?" she whispered anxiously. "Amy are you okay? Are you—"

"That's a ridiculous question," Amy mumbled back. "I'm always okay. I got captured and now I'm back. No big deal, just your typical summer Blockbuster movie. It was a vacation really, not having to deal with all the 2nd Mass drama, who's sleeping with who, who tried to kill who—it was like middle school all over again. Anyways, you're the one who does stupid crap like climb on spaceships and fly off into the great blue yonder. What kind of idiot does that?"

Evelyn snorted and wrapped her hand around the back of Amy's neck, pulling her forward and resting their foreheads together. "I said I'd be back," Evelyn said, glaring happily at Amy.

Amy pushed herself up and yanked Evelyn into a tight hug. "Well it took you freaking long enough."

"I could say the same thing to you."

**Okay, so there it is. I hope it came out alright and that everybody is character and it's funny enough and all that good stuff.**

**PLEASE REVIEW! Pretty please. I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, so I would love to know what you think.  
**

**I want to apologize for the long break between chapters, but it's likely that that will continue to happen, but I WILL finish the story eventually. The thing of it is I graduated from college a year ago and spent a lot of time working at a low-paying job at bookstore and writing. It was great and I was having a great time, but I recently had an 'oh-shit' moment where I realized I have to grow up and get a real-person job, plus I realized that what I really love to do (i.e. creative writing) has absolutely nothing to do with what I studied and college. **

**LIFE ADVICE: Cautionary tale for all those going to college: being interested in something and being good at it doesn't mean that it's your passion. I was an ecology major (among other things). I did well in school, I care deeply for the environment, and I'm glad that I took those classes, but what I'm PASSIONATE about is storytelling. I love film and books and want to be associated with that for the rest of my life. It's good to know the difference, and I'm glad I finally figured it out. Believe it or not, I spent the majority of my life thinking I didn't have a single creative bone in my body until I began TSKoB on a whim. Also, if anybody's looking for an editorial assistant or production assistant or anything like that, let me know!  
**

**Okay, getting off the soap box. I hope you liked the chapter.**


	24. Blurring the Lines

**DISCLAIMER: I do not have and scruffy little beard. Therefore I am not Steven Spielberg and do not own 'Falling Skies'. Any familiar dialogue is taken from the show.**

**Photos of OCs, soundtracks, are on my profile and the soundtrack is saved as chapter two of the story 'Falling Skies Soundtracks'.**

**A big thank you to ZazubasGirl, Cowgirlforever12, Nirvana14, Geekman-1, LucyRider17, and Camille for your reviews. You guys keep me writing.**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so once again I'm not sure about this chapter and I feel like the quality of my writing is declining, so I apologize for that. I think job anxiety stuff has sapped my creativity a bit and that the description isn't all that great, but I'm posting anyway. Writing is kind of therapeutic for me so…..throwing caution to the wind I guess. I really hope you enjoy it.**

Chapter 23 – Blurring the Lines

Evelyn woke up in a cold sweat that morning with gasping breaths and a racing pulse. The dream had been so real—when those skitters raised their arms into the air, as if they were summoning an army, it almost felt as if she was doing it herself. It felt like she was the one trying to join them together into whatever unholy cabal the enemy seemed to be considering. It felt like a ceremony—a strange sort of union—and she couldn't help but flinch at the thought. But it was all in her head—all in her dreams. It all had to be in her head, because the alternative was just too terrifying to contemplate.

Rolling out of that lumpy cot, she planted her feet on the ground and enjoyed to cool sensation of her feet against the floor. It was a grounding sensation—it made her feel more tied to this world than the one in her head that sometimes seemed was about to swallow her up. She stood up and wandered over to the pile of clothes in the corner of the tent, taking quiet steps so as not to wake Maggie who was still snoring softly. Amy's bed was empty. Evelyn wasn't sure what to make of that. Her face had cropped up once or twice in those dreams of hers, along with Ben's and for some reason that kid Rick's, but each of them were gone as quickly as they had appeared.

Evelyn grabbed a washcloth and soaked it in water, vigorously wiping her face. The sweat had left a thin layer of salt on her skin and was making her hair stick to her skin. She needed to wash away all memories of that dream. She brought the washcloth around to wipe the sweat from the back of her neck, but felt a stinging sensation when she did so. Wincing slightly, she brought the washcloth back in front of her to find that it was spotted with red and black. Blood. Hesitantly, she reached back and lightly pressed her fingers against the skin right below her hairline. The skin was raw and peeling. It was then that she noticed the little bits of blood and flesh beneath her own ragged fingernails. She had been tearing at the skin in her sleep, like she was subconsciously trying to rip out whatever those skitters had put in her.

Was she going insane? That might be the case. Given her circumstances she might be going insane. That was the general sentiment lately, at least when she was considering herself. From the outside people seemed to think she was doing just fine, but when she looked at herself whether it was in a mirror or a pool of water or her reflection in someone else's eyes, she was always suspicious. She was suspect, to herself at least. Those freakishly realistic dreams made damn sure of that. But in the meantime she hid the bloodied washcloth in the bottom of her rucksack and fished out a few Band-Aids and covered up the offending wound, letting her hair fall down and conceal the evidence.

After pulling on her usual tanktop, flannel shirt, cargo pants and jacket, slinging her rifle over her shoulder, and tucking Max's old Glock into the waistband of her pants, Evelyn pushed her way out of the tent and set off on a well-worn path, the one that led to the top of the hill over-looking the nearby city of Richmond. Ever since they had set up camp she had started heading there regularly. It was a good place to take stock of your life, consider the wondrousness of life, contemplate the cruel beauty of that city of ash, and all that other philosophical bullshit. But more than anything else, it was a good place to be alone and to think, and lately she was doing a lot of thinking—about herself, about Amy and Ben, about the red-eyed skitter and those terrifying dreams.

Dried leaves crunched underneath Evelyn's feet as she made her way up the hill. She pulled her jacket closer in around her to ward off the cold and trudged on, running through the latest dream in her head. Ever since she had gotten off that ship, her dreams had had a different quality to them. They were more vivid and realistic, and therefore exponentially more terrifying than the ones before. This past week though, camped out on the outskirts of Richmond, they had changed yet again. They came in flashes, like snapshots taken from someone else's point of view. It was a massive collage of freaky alien encounters. Evelyn shook her head and tried to push those images out of her brain. She felt like they were trying to take her over, to inundate her mind. Well, fuck that. Visualization exercises, that's what she was going to do—picturing rabbits hopping through meadows, babbling brooks, and all that other zen shit.

Evelyn sat at the very top of the hill, holding her gun in her lap, and looked onto the valley and across it the ruined city in front of her. Squeezing her eyes shut, she took a deep breath, letting the crisp morning air fill her lungs. She reached down to the ground and grabbed a handful of dead leaves from the ground, crumbling them up into small pieces and then tossing them into the air and watching them float away on the breeze. She smiled as they danced and floated about. Sometimes the simplest of things could bring you calm.

The quiet was refreshing. In the camp there was always noise—people talking, car engines revving—it was impossible to get away from the business of it all. The hill was different. On that hill for the first time in a long time, she felt still. She was the lone watchman, the last sentinel, the witness to a world since lost. That was probably an overly romanticized sentiment—the Henry David Thoreau one-with-nature _Walden _crap—but in the early morning hours as the sun rose up over the city, casting those harsh shadows and glinting light off of the twisted metal, she felt like some sort of sacred guardian. And right now that guardian had company.

"I can hear you, you know," she said in amusement at the sound Hal's footsteps as he moved towards her. They might be quiet to others, but each time his heels scraped against the ground it echoed in her head. Even the sound of him walking had that little bit of swagger.

"Ah, yeah, yeah," he drawled out sarcastically, circling around and plopping down next to her on that old, slightly decaying log. "I thought I finally had you."

"I've told you a million freaking times, Hal," she continued in a casual tone, picking at her nails absently. "Pick up your feet when you walk. It's a tactical thing."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he sighed out, edging towards her slightly. "Has anybody ever told you you're a bit of a nag?"

"It's one of the problems you have to deal with when you're always right," she smirked back, elbowing him in the side. "There comes a point when being tactful while trying to correct other people's behavior is just way too exhausting. All that hedging and smiling takes too much time. It's a lot easier if you just come right out and tell other people what they're doing wrong."

"Yeah," Hal said, elbowing her back, "but it makes you a lot more likely to get your ass kicked ."

"That's assuming the person you're talking to is capable of kicking your ass," she replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Oh-ho," Hal said through a snort. "You think you can take me?"

"Please," she scoffed back. "You'd get your ass handed to you any day of the week."

"Is that so?"

"Yup," she said, popping the 'p'. "Twice on Sundays."

Hal let out a light laugh. He shot her a few sidelong glances through narrowed eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. "I'd like to see you try."

Evelyn made a face and shook her head. "No, you really wouldn't. You'd get all embarrassed and flustered like guys always do when they feel emasculated. Then you'll get passive aggressive and start trying to overcompensate with all that 'manly' crap. It would totally throw off the dynamic and soon enough I'll be looking for a new partner who isn't quite so insecure. Maybe Maggie. Or Tector—he's entertaining enough. Definitely not Dai, he's way to quiet. I'd be bored out of my mind."

"Oh, that's great," Hal said sardonically, rolling his eyes heavily. "We had our hypothetical falling out less than a minute ago and you're already trying out new partners? Shouldn't there some sort of mourning period or something?"

"Hey, man, a rolling stone gathers no moss," she said, raising her hands defensively. "Your hypothetical insecurities are not my problem. That's on you."

Hal laughed again and scratched at the back of his neck awkwardly. "You are so fucking weird sometimes, you know that?"

"You love it," she said, poking him hard in the chest. The two of them sat there for a moment, shoulder to shoulder, staring out at the city in front. "So how did you know I was here anyway," she continued through a yawn.

"Because you weren't in your tent," he replied simp ly, shrugging a bit, "and this is where you've been coming almost every morning."

Well that was surprising development filled with opportunities for light-hearted mockery. Evelyn raised her eyebrows and turned to face him with wide eyes and a massive grin. When he saw her reaction, Hal flushed slightly and he let his head drop in embarrassment, which only made her smile widen. Oh yeah, this was going to be good.

"Hal Jebediah Mason—"

"That's not my middle name," Hal interjected, rubbing at his forehead self-consciously.

"That's neither here nor there," she barreled on, waving her hand dismissively. "What is both here and there is the fact that I apparently have a stalker. A creepy, possessive stalker. Tell me, do you cut little locks of my hair while I sleep and sniff my laundry too?"

Hal groaned loudly and punched her lightly in the shoulder. "I fucking hate you, you know."

"No you don't," she replied in a singsong voice. "You write me love songs and want to bear my children."

"Again, not a seahorse," he said, gesturing at himself with his thumbs. "And I wasn't stalking, I was just…..keeping an eye on my partner."

"Hey, whatever you say, man," she said, knocking her shoulder into his. "So why are you interrupting my moment of quiet contemplation? What's the word?"

"Ah, right," he said, nodding slightly as if he had just remembered there was actually a reason he had sought her out. "I talked to Weaver. He wants us to scout pharmacies and hospitals in the area. Dr. Glass is low on supplies."

Evelyn pressed her lips together in a thin line and nodded as well. "Good," she said, slapping a hand on his knee before standing up and stretching. "It's about time we saw some action. We've been here a week and nothing. I was starting to get bored. Did you know I haven't shot at anything in like ten days?"

She held out a hand to Hal and hauled him to his feet. When he reached his full height, she found that he was standing very close, smirking down at her. For some reason, she couldn't make herself step back, and he didn't seem all that eager to do so either. "So you're an adrenaline junkie now, are you?" he said, looking down at her with a crooked smile.

"Hell, yeah," she said, smiling back and smacking him in the chest. "No more movies to live through vicariously. It's all cold, hard reality. We only get to look at the awesome explosions when we set the bombs ourselves."

Just then, as if on cue, a massive explosion went off, the sound echoing through the hills. It was followed by another and another. Evelyn spun on her heels to face the city, sending her hair flying about in a cloud of red. Smoke was rising above the city in giant plumes, concentrated in an area near the edge of Richmond, probably the space of a few city blocks. It was only a few more seconds before the mech fire started.

"It looks like you got your wish," Hal mumbled, grabbing his rifle and slinging it over his shoulder. "You're definitely going to get to shoot something."

"What the hell is going on?" she whispered staring at the city in slack-jawed amazement and craning her neck to get a better look. That wasn't planned—that wasn't supposed to happen—and she was not comfortable with these sorts of new developments. Mech fire or skitter raids she could deal with, but mystery explosions from an occupied city with no human presence….that was new. Evelyn took several steps closer, staring at the violence and running through all the possible scenarios in her mind, none of which had a shiny, happy conclusion. "We don't have any patrols out, and even if we did none of them have that kind of fire power."

"Well we're not going to stay around here sitting on our asses and waiting to find out," Hal shot back. His hand encircled her arm, pulling her after him and forcing her to look away from the massive cloud of smoke forming above the city. Time to go to work.

Camp was a mess. Evelyn could almost smell the fear as people dashed about with wide eyes and clenched teeth. It was an automated response at this point—Pavlovian even. As soon as people heard mech fire, they panicked. It was an understandable response, but not a particularly useful one. Evelyn had a habit of forgetting that the Second Mass was mostly made up of untrained civilians. She spent so much time keeping watch, on patrol, pouring over maps in Weaver's HQ, or spending time with other fighters, she failed to realize that most of these people were elementary school teachers and accountants. It was a silly thing to forget, but now that she thought about it the only people she ever really spent time with were always holding a gun—other than Anne and Lourdes, that is.

Hal and Evelyn jogged through camp, dodging between frenzied pedestrians and looking for Weaver. There was a little voice in the back of Evelyn's mind wondering why the hell people were screaming. The explosions were a good couple of miles out and were showing no signs of getting closer, a fact that raised a hell of a lot more questions but was good news for them as far as she was concerned.

The two of them made it to HQ just as Weaver was pushing his way out, that familiar glint of steely-eyed determination in his eye. They fell in line behind him along with Maggie a few other 'Red Shirt' nameless soldiers she didn't really know all that well, waiting silently for their orders. Within a few moments they caught sight of Tom and Matt and made a beeline in their direction.

"Captain?" Tom inquired, looking at Weaver with an expression of concern.

"Sentries spotted mech fire more than one click out," Weaver growled gruffly, continuing to march with purpose. "More than that we don't know."

"Headed our way?" Maggie asked breathlessly.

"No sign yet," Weaver grunted, "but we don't want to get caught with our pants down. I want all units on advanced defensive perimeter. Tom, you get your Beserkers up on point and recon the situation."

Tom held up a hand, making Weaver pause for a moment. "Captain, can I ask you a question."

"Make it quick."

"Someone's getting hit and getting hit hard," he said, his voice thick with concern. "If that's another resistance group we should send a unit to assist. We'd want them to do the same for us."

Weaver came to a stop and a look of reluctant contemplation crossed his face. He rubbed at his jaw, considering his options. "Okay," he said, nodding slightly. "You take the Berserkers, I'll go with Hal, Walsh, and their unit. We'll flank the area and suss it out, but we're not doing anything to jeopardize the position of the Second Mass."

"Okay, understood."

Evelyn stepped forward, her hands tightening around her rifle. It was an involuntary response now, like her body had to be certain that the gun was there before heading into the fray. "The explosions I saw were in the southwest quadrant of the city," she interjected, glancing between Tom and Weaver. "It looked like they were somewhere in the business district. That's about ten square blocks. It's a lot of space to cover, but it should narrow it down some."

"How the hell do you know that?" Hal asked, giving her a curious look.

"Because I read the freaking map."

She was telling the truth when she said that, but that truth was accompanied be a swooping feeling of guilt. It wasn't just the layout of the city she recognized. One of those flashing images in her dream had been a sign for the Central National Bank, once all shiny and gilded, now scratched and scorched, covered in dirt and grime.

"Okay," Weaver said, giving a final, definitive nod. "We move out in ten. Gear up and rendezvous at the eastern perimeter of the camp. Don't be late." He stalked off followed by those two other soldiers, leaving her, Tom, Hal, Maggie, and Matt standing there alone.

"This is fucking weird," Evelyn whispered, shaking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose. "The fight going on down there is bigger than what we saw in Boston. No warning, no change in enemy movements, no nothing, and stuff just starts exploding? There's something off about this."

"Weird or not, we've got a job to do," Tom said, clapping a hand on her shoulder. "You guys go to the armory and gear up. We've only got ten minutes."

"You heard the man," Hal said, punching her shoulder. "It's time to gear up."

Evelyn bit down hard on the inside of her cheek until it started bleeding a bit and her mouth was filled with the taste of pennies. She had bad feeling, but talking about that bad feeling would bring up the subject of her dreams, and she was too much of a coward to do that. So instead she just nodded and stomped off towards the armory.

"Where's Ben?" Tom's voice suddenly shouted from behind her, making her step falter slightly.

"I thought he was with you!" Hal called back before jogging to catch up with her.

Once in the armory, Evelyn surveyed the supplies. It was crudely organized and dirty, but it worked. Unassigned guns were stacked clumsily in giant, industrial-sized bins on one side of the tent, divided generally by caliber, and the other side held the ammo and accessories. Evelyn grabbed hold of a handgun harness much like the one Maggie always wore and slung it over her shoulders, tucking the Glock and a few extra mags into the holster. Hal stood opposite her on the other side of the foldout table, checking his rifle and reloading it with extra ammo. Evelyn shot him a few glances. His face was pinched in concentration, his jaw was twitching, and his movements were harsh and deliberate.

"Ben's missing." It wasn't a question, it was a statement of fact.

"Apparently," Hal bit out harshly, not bothering to look up.

Evelyn pushed the hair out of her face and exhaled sharply. She planted her hands on the table in front of her and leveled Hal with a serious stare. "I think Amy's missing too. She wasn't in her bed this morning, and I woke up long before anybody else."

At that his eyes snapped up to meet hers, filled with alarm. They stared at each other for a moment, and Evelyn could tell from the expression on his face that he was thinking the exact same thing she was. They had hoped the problem would just fade into the background and resolve itself, but these days it was looking more and more like that was not going to happen.

All of the sudden there was the rustling sound of fabric being pulled to the side and Maggie's face appeared in the doorway to the tent. Evelyn straightened suddenly and did her best to appear busy, which given the curious expression on Maggie's face probably made her appear more suspicious.

"We need to get a move on," she said in a low voice.

Evelyn and Hal exchanged one last look before following Maggie out. There was a conversation to be had, but not now. Now they had to go to work.

As far as Evelyn was concerned, there were two types of quiet. The first was a peaceful quiet, like the kind she had enjoyed during all those early mornings at the top of the hill. It was soothing and comforting. The second type of quiet was none of those things. It was filled with anxiety, worry, and the unknown—a quiet so loud somebody might as well have been screaming in your ears. Walking through Richmond, it was the second kind of quiet that Evelyn and the others were forced to experience. The explosions and mech fire had ceased. It left Evelyn with the sensation that something horrible was about to happen, like the calm before the storm.

Evelyn took small, careful steps through the streets, keeping her eyes peeled for any evidence of movement. Her hands were wrapped tightly around the cold metal of her gun, clutching it for comfort like a small child might clutch at their teddy bear after a bad dream. Broken bits of glass crunched beneath her feet as she moved.

They took one block at a time, moving slowly and methodically through the streets. They always had to be more careful when in the cities. There were way more factors to take into account. Evelyn slid down the wall of one of the multitude of brick buildings until she reached the corner of the intersection, ignoring the copious amounts of dirt and grime settling on her skin and in her hair. Carefully, she poked her head out and peered around the edge of the building, looking for any combatants. Again, there was nothing. Bringing her fingers to her lips, she let out a loud whistle and gave the others a thumbs-up to indicate the all-clear before darting across the street to the next block.

The smell was the first indication that they were getting close to the point of origin. It hit her like she was walking into a wall, that acrid scent that felt as if it was burning the insides of her nostrils. The taste of it made her gag slightly. But the strangest thing was that she still couldn't hear anything. There was that same usual crackling of flames from burnt out cars, but that ringing noise in her ears—the one she had gotten so used to whenever enemy machinery was around—was still conspicuously absent. And when they finally reached the battlefield, she found out why.

It was a wasteland. Nothing was left alive. The asphalt was fractured a cracked from the bombs, cars had exploded and been overturned, there were burnt out mechs and corpses of skitters everywhere. There had been a battle—a brutal one—but from what Evelyn could see, there was no trace of human involvement. Evelyn glanced over at each of the others, but they all seemed just as surprised as she was.

"What do you think," Maggie whispered, coming up behind her.

Evelyn opened and closed her mouth, gaping like a fish. There, on the other side of the square, was a sign for the Central National Bank, scorch marks and all.

"I think this is all very, very suspicious," Evelyn responded simply. She took another step forward, crossing the invisible barrier dividing her from the destruction. Across the square, she could see Tom and the Berserkers emerge from their own hiding place, making Weaver whistle and wave at them to indicate their presence.

Evelyn's grip on her gun released slightly as she picked her way across the square. Swinging her rifle across her back, she crouched down near one of the fallen skitters and turned it over on its back. There was a definite fatal wound in its equivalent of a torso, but it wasn't from a human bullet. The gaping hole in the crusty exoskeleton hadn't simply fractured and broken in the way she was familiar with, cracking in straight lines. This time there was lipping around the edges as if the hard skitter flesh had been melted by whatever it was his with. She ran her fingers over the edge of the wound. It wasn't rough and scaly, it was smooth, like sand melted down into glass.

Ignoring the exclamations of the others, Evelyn moved to the next skitter, inspecting it as well. Again, she saw the same pattern. Then a figure appeared behind her, casting a shadow across the ground in front. Evelyn twisted her head around to find Dai standing over her, peering down with a curious expression on his face.

"Why don't you buy it dinner first?" he asked in that familiar, deadpan tone of voice.

Evelyn rolled her eyes, wiping the black ooze emanating from the skitters wounds off on the fabric of her pants. "It's bad etiquette to make the lady pay, Dai," she said, holding her hand out in a silent request to b helped up. "You should know that by now."

Dai silently extended a hand and hauled her to her feet. "What's the word?" he asked, gesturing at the body below. "Why are you feeling up the skitters?"

"These aren't bullet wounds," she announced loudly, so that everybody could hear. "Whatever they were hit with, it melted the exoskeleton. Looks to me like alien weaponry."

"These are all mech hits," Tom called out as well. He was inspecting a fallen mech which looked to have a gaping hole through it.

"There are no shell casings anywhere," Maggie added.

"No humans involved with this at all," Dai piled on as well.

"So these bastards are shooting each other now?" Weaver asked, his voice filled with suspicion.

"Well that would be different," Tom mumbled under his breath.

"Hey, I'm not complaining," Evelyn said, scanning the perimeter and looking for any additional evidence. "Every dead skitter is one we don't have to deal with anymore. If they want to kill themselves off, I'm not going to try and stop them."

Evelyn kicked at some of the debris in front of her, swearing loudly as she stubbed her toe. She was doing her best to sound cavalier and calm, but inside she was freaking out. Again. Too much was changing. The lines between reality and dreams, between good and bad, friend and enemy, they were all getting far too blurry for her liking. The red-eyed skitter had tortured her and then let her go. Did that make it an ally or her an enemy?

Looking across the square, Evelyn's eyes fell on Hal. It was strange that he hadn't said anything yet. He was never exactly one for keeping his opinions to himself. His shoulders were tensed and his face pinched in a look of consideration that she had been seeing more and more often these days. It was his 'thinking about Ben' face. He was looking for his brother. Evelyn stepped over another burnt-up corpse. As she made her way towards him, she saw him freeze.

"Ben?"

It came out in a whisper, but Evelyn heard it. She started sprinting towards him, clambering over a barrier of rusted cars and making everyone look at her curiously. And as she got closer, a faint, familiar ringing began to fill her ears.

"Dad!" Hal's voice rang out, strong and clear. "Over here!"

There was a flurry of movement as everyone made their way in Hal's direction. He was crouched over yet another dead skitter, trying desperately to move it aside and panting with effort. Evelyn patted him on the back, indicating for him to move aside so that she could help, and that's when she saw the dotted line of faint blue lights. There was a figure trapped beneath it. A human figure.

"Get him off!" Hal whispered breathlessly. "Get him off!"

Hal was grappling with the skitter frantically and ineffectively. Evelyn forgot how heavy those things actually were to people who lacked her….enhancements. She crouched down next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Okay, Hal, on the count of three we roll it off. Agreed?" Hal looked up at her, unfocused slightly wild-eyed, his face smudged with dirt. Evelyn reached out and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her. Their eyes connected and he seemed to snap out of the panic. "On the count of three."

Hal swallowed heavily and nodded. "Yeah, on the count of three."

"One, two—"

With one strong heaving movement, they rolled the skitter aside. As soon as it was free, Hal grabbed hold of the limp body and rolled it on its back. "What the—"

He had been expecting pale skin and sandy blonde hair. Instead what they got was wild, curly black hair and dark skin.

"It's Rick!" Tom shouted from over their shoulders.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Weaver demanded harshly, jogging up to meet them.

He looked older, thinner, and more worn, there were gashes on his face and it looked like he had bathed in dirt, but it was definitely Rick—the kid who had betrayed them to the skitters all those months ago and the kid who had just started cropping up in her dreams. Tom fell to his knees and hoisted the boy up, pushing the hair out of his face and looking for any sign of consciousness, but there was none to find. Rick's head lolled to the side. He was hurt—badly. A giant piece of metal was sticking out of his shoulder and blood was flowing freely around it.

"I thought we'd seen the last of him," Weaver growled.

"He's bleeding pretty badly," Tom said, pressing his fingers around the edges of the wound.

"We need to get him to Doctor Glass, and soon," Maggie said, leaning over them.

Evelyn quickly stood up and dropped her rifle on the ground next to her. She shed her coat and her handgun holster before sliding out of her flannel shirt, leaving her with only the tank top to guard her against the cold air. Grasping the fabric at its seems, she yanked hard, ripping it into strips. "Hold him up, as still as you can," she ordered Tom before doing her best to bandage to gaping chest wound and staunch the flow of blood. The fabric soaked through quickly, leaving her hands red and sticky.

"Maybe he can tell up what the hell went down here," Dai grunted.

"He can't answer any questions if he's dead," Weaver responded. "We need to get him out of here."

Evelyn worked as quickly as she could, wrapping the wound so that the piece of shrapnel wouldn't move much and tying little knots. She tried to push the hair out of her face, smearing blood on her forehead in the process. "Okay," she said through a sharp sigh when she was finished, "that's as much as I can do."

"Alright," Weaver growled, "Dai and Tector, you get him to Dr. Glass. Maggie and Tom are on point. The rest of us'll be right behind you."

Dai and Tector stepped forward, each of them grabbing one of Rick's arms and pulling it over their shoulder and dragging him along with them. The boy's feet dragged against the ground behind them, leaving two distinct lines in the ash and dirt. Evelyn watched after them for a moment, in a bit of a daze. She stood there dumbly as everyone else started to move.

"Walsh, get a move on!"

Weaver's voice snapped her out of the trance. She wiped her hands on her pants, mixing Rick's fresh, red blood with the black belonging to the skitter before pulling on her holster and her coat, picking up her rifle, and jogging off after the others. She had entered the city that day looking for answers. Now skitters were killing each other, Rick was back, her dreams were beginning to have a worrying degree of accuracy, and she was more confused now than ever.

**Alright, I hope you like it. Please review. That is all.**


	25. Cracked Foundations

**DISCLAIMER: I do not have and scruffy little beard. Therefore I am not Steven Spielberg and do not own 'Falling Skies'. Any familiar dialogue is taken from the show.**

**Photos of OCs, soundtracks, are on my profile and the soundtrack is saved as chapter two of the story 'Falling Skies Soundtracks'.**

**A big thank you to ZazubasGirl, Nirvana14, LucyRider17, and Camille for your reviews. You guys keep me writing.**

**So in this chapter I kind of replaced Maggie with Evelyn for a significant portion of the story, but it was more circumstantial replacement. I changed up the dialogue and everything to suit the characters. Not my most original chapter ever, but I hope you like it anyway.**

Chapter 24 – Cracked Foundations

Evelyn had never been so happy to be on a supplies run her entire life. Usually she found them boring and formulaic, just like regular shopping. They both had a very limited range of possible activities. Find and article of clothing, try it on, twirl in the mirror like an idiot, and then buy it. Supplies runs often went quite the same way. Find a store/pharmacy/hospital, rifle through the goods, steal what you can, and get the fuck out of there. In, out, and done. There really wasn't much to it. The only thing more boring than being part of a supplies run was not doing anything at all. That was why it was so strange that, while there was a tracking team combing through the streets of Richmond to find Amy and Ben, she was so fucking happy to be throwing vitamins into the back of a truck with Hal, Tector, and Crazy Lee.

Life during a post-apocalyptic alien invasion was never boring. And she liked it that way. That was one little secret Evelyn would never tell Hal or Tom or anybody other than Max—the fact that despite all the death and destruction she liked this life more than the one she had before. Max, what with his combat experience before the world went to shit, understood her appreciation of the purpose it gave her. Before all this her life had seemed so….pointless, especially given its inevitably premature conclusion. But being in the middle of the action was a rush. It made her feel alive for the first time in her life. The most dangerous situations gave her the most purpose—made her feel the most alive—so that's usually where she liked to be. The difference was that this time around—with all those dreams she had been having—if she went along on the most dangerous mission, she might find out that she herself was the danger. And that wasn't something she was prepared to face yet.

"Where the fuck's all the good stuff?" Tector whined like a small child. He was glaring at the sparse selection of the shelf in front of him like he could mentally will it to be full again. They were looting what felt like the hundredth pharmacy of the evening, and their lack of success seemed to turn him into a toddler having a temper tantrum.

"What were you expecting?" Evelyn asked, picking her way through the rubble. "A pony?"

"Nah, they crap everywhere," he replied nonchalantly. He huffed loudly and picked up a pill bottle, shining his flashlight and looking for the name. "I mean, antibiotics are all well an' good when we can find 'em, but where's the vicodin and oxy? If my ass gets blasted with shrapnel I'm gonna want somethin' good to take the edge off."

Evelyn sighed heavily and scanned the shelves in front of her, slightly shielding the light of her flashlight to avoid detection. The metal shelves which had once no doubt been completely sterile were now covered in a thick coating of dust and the neatly organized pill bottles had devolved into a jumbled mess. Carefully stepping over an overturned shelf, she squatted down and began sifting through the piles of small orange and white containers that were strewn across the floor. Erythromycin. That was a good one. Evelyn unslung her rucksack from over her shoulder and unzipped it, tossing the new find in. The clattering noise that arose as it collided with the rest of the bags contents was troublingly quiet. They weren't having the best of luck.

Pushing aside some of the debris, the light of the flashlight glinted off something metallic. Evelyn paused for a moment and moved the trash—ripped papers, broken glass, that kind of stuff—to find the source. It was a photo. The glass pane was broken and the frame was scratched, but inside was the intact photo of a woman with long brown hair down to her waist cradling a newborn baby standing in front of a flower garden. She stared down at the child with such an intense look of love, it made Evelyn feel warm and hollow at the same time. Unthinkingly, she removed the picture, carefully sliding it from underneath the shards of glass, and shoved it into the pocket of that faded green bomber jacket Max gave her that was several sizes too big and rolled up at the sleeves.

A much louder clattering noise rang out from the other side of the room, making Evelyn start. Her head jerked around suddenly, searching for the source of the noise, only to see Tector carelessly throwing bottles over his shoulder.

"You want to be a bit louder?" she hissed harshly. "We don't want Hal and Crazy Lee to abandon their look outs because they think we're under attack."

"Un-twist your panties, Walsh," Tector retorted, tossing another bottle over his shoulder. "Aspirin. It's all fuckin' aspirin. That's fan-fuckin'-tastic, we can avoid headaches and reduce our risk of heart disease. Like those are the priorities. If I'm goin' to keep gettin' shot at, I at least want some semi-decent pain meds."

Evelyn couldn't help but roll her eyes. They had been raiding local drugstores all day, and Tector had made the exact same quip every single time. Usually it would be annoying, but for some reason when he did it, it was endearing. Maybe it had something to do with the complete lack of antipathy in his character. He was like a well-disciplined, warrior hippie. Love life, love people, love mood-altering substances, and fight the aliens.

"Isn't that what the bourbon's for?" Evelyn demanded through a half-smile, shoving some more of the maligned antibiotics into her rucksack. "Unless I'm wrong, you've got some tucked away in your boot as we speak. Just in case."

Tector shot her a wide smile. Leaning down, he reached into his boot and pulled out a rusted over flask, took a swig, and held it out to her. Evelyn rolled her eyes and shook her head, ignoring the offering. "Fucking predictable," she murmured, just loud enough to hear.

"Hey, just tryin' to keep things interesting, little lady," he said after belching loudly and returning the flask to his boot. "Raid a pharmacy, take a shot."

"And what happens when we get to a hospital?" Evelyn asked, raising her eyebrows at him. "Are you going to chug a fifth of vodka?"

Tector scoffed loudly and thrust a few more small white bottles into his bag. "Fuck no!" he replied. "Clear liquors or for rich women on diets."

"You're getting awfully picky for a guy living in a post-apocalyptic hellscape," Evelyn replied through a snort. "One of these days you'll be all out of scotch and bourbon, and all you'll have is tequila."

He just wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "No fuckin' way. I'm not turnin' this shit into an episode of 'Real Housewives of North Dakota'. I had an uncle who used to make moonshine. Things go south, I'll whip myself up a batch of that shit."

Evelyn let out a low whistle. "Sounds dangerous."

"Yeah," he said through a bark of laughter. "Once he used it to strip paint from this boat he salvaged."

"And how does that not melt your esophagus? Although it would explain a lot of the mindless shit you blather on about all the time," she said, tapping a finger against the side of her head. "Your neurons have fried like an egg on the pavement in the middle of the summer."

Something solid collided with the back of her head, making her smirk widen. "Shut your massive pie hole, Walsh," Tector growled back with a smile in his voice. "I'll have you know that my mind is a bona fide masterpiece of tactical know-how."

This was how it had been going for the past six hours. They alternated between keeping watch and conducting the sweeps, but so far they had yielded few results. That was one of the drawbacks of looking through pharmacies in relatively small towns. Less people means less of the specialized medication, and there was only so much Children's Motrin they could fit on the medibus. They needed a bigger score, and that meant either hitting pharmacies in more densely crowded cities, or preferably a hospital. If they could find one that hadn't already been cleaned out or destroyed.

"How's about some Midol, Walsh?" Tector called over, sniggering loudly. He held the flashlight under his chin so the light shone upwards and cast hard shadows over his face like kids do when they tell ghost stories. "The tale of the rag monster is pretty fuckin' terrifyin'. You think we should pick up some of that to prevent she-hulkin'?"

Evelyn snorted lightly and shook her head, glancing up at him. "I was under the impression you were already going through menopause, Tector," she said as he walked towards her.

Tector let out a single, barking laugh and offered her a hand. She took it and allowed herself to be pulled up to her feet. "Touché, Walsh," he grinned. Scratching at the back of his neck, he took one last scan of the room, looking over the bare shelves. "I think that's about it. Time to get a move on."

Night had fallen outside. The stars shone in the sky like tiny pinpricks in a giant curtain of black. Nature's nightlight. That's what Ian had called them that night they lay on the back porch after an overly enthusiastic game of beer pong that night her freshman year. Evelyn smiled slightly at the thought. That night had been the birth of 'drunk astronomy'. She could still remember Ian's first contribution to the game. Cassiopeia had turned into 'monkey with rash'.

Slipping carefully through the slightly cracked door, Evelyn raised her fingers to her lips and let out a single shrill whistle. Like a couple of meercats, Hal and Crazy Lee popped up from behind a nearby abandoned car and turned to face them. After a thumbs-up, the all-clear sign, she and Tector jogged over to where the bikes were holed up.

"Any luck?" Hal inquired.

"Ah, just a couple o' bags of cotton balls, some baby aspirin, and a bottle of dextro-metho-somethin'," Tector drawled, holding up the bags of white fluff and his rucksack. "Let's make sure Crazy Lee stays away from that. She might drink it."

Crazy Lee let out a light laugh and gave Tector a playful shove. "Shut up, jerk-off."

"Make me, ass-hat."

The two of them made their way to their bikes, shoving each other and laughing the whole way. Evelyn smirked after them until Hal turned to her with a questioning look on his face. "How about you?" he asked with more concern than the first time. "How did you do?"

Evelyn sighed and scratched at her forehead. "Not too good I'm afraid. I got two bottles of Erythromycin, and a box of Hello Kitty Bandaids, but other than that…"

Hal swore under his breath and kicked at a nearby soda can. "We've been to two hospitals and four pharmacies and have barely gotten anything useful. This is not looking good."

Evelyn shrugged and readjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder. "We've still got one hospital left. Maybe we'll get lucky there."

He snorted bitterly and scratched at the back of his head absently. "Yeah," he sighed out, "but lucky isn't something we've been for a long time."

"Luck can change."

Then, as if on cue, a familiar sound reached their ears. Whir, clank. Whir, clank. Shit. It was a mech patrol, and it was heading there way. Not just their way, directly at them. Hal raised his eyebrows at her, caught somewhere between amusement and fear. "You were saying."

"Shut up," she hissed.

"Cover! Cover!" Hal whispered harshly at Tector and Crazy Lee. "Get down!"

Evelyn immediately ducked to the ground and made herself as small as possible, curling up into a ball next to a nearby car. Hal crept up behind her and opened the door.

"Get in!"

Evelyn didn't hesitate to clamber in, Hal following soon after. The two of them sat in the back seat, side-by-side, sliding down as far as possible. But it wasn't far enough. Their heads still poked above the seat. If one of those searchlights scanned by, they would be visible.

"Down!" Evelyn whispered quietly, pulling at the fabric of Hal's jacket.

"What?" he demanded, looking confused.

"Get down!" she hissed and second time, lying down and pulling him after her. They readjusted slightly on the seat so that they could both fit as comfortably as possible, with her halfway on top of him. She could feel his heartbeat against her own chest and his breath against her face they were so close. She focused on that instead of the jarring vibrations created by the mechs as they approached. Each time one of their 'feet' hit the ground, it made her shiver. It was like some sort of external force was trying to co-opt her heartbeat—manipulate it. So she focused on Hal's heartbeat instead. Strong, solid, steady. She closed her eyes and took a single, steadying breath before opening them again. And that's when she realized just how close they actually were, and started to actively try and not think about it.

The car was cramped and smelled terrible, like the time her mom had left Chinese takeout under the seat for over a week, and cloth material that lined the roof was mildewed and saggy. In fact, the whole car felt musty and oppressive. It was dirty as well—everything was covered with a thick layer of dirt—but that was actually something she was grateful for. The blackened windows made it damn near impossible for her to see out, but that meant the mechs couldn't see in either.

"You calm?" Hal asked sudden'y, his lips brushing slightly against her cheek as he spoke.

"Are you?" she whispered back against his chin, actively staring at the bobble-head Chihuahua on the dash.

The clanking noise was right on them now, and the lights as well. The mechs were passing them by. Evelyn said a silent thank you for the fact that they didn't seem to be using their IR detection capabilities. Otherwise they would have been fried. Literally.

"Yeah, I'm calm," Hal said after a short pause. "I've never been so calm."

"Same here," she whispered back, readjusting slightly so that her gun wasn't digging into her hip so uncomfortably. "It's like I'm sitting in the middle of a meadow, listening to a babbling brook and singing while cartoon birds braid my hair."

Her eyes were still glued to the window, watching the metallic mammoths stomp by, but she could feel Hal underneath her, shaking with silent laughter. "What is so fucking funny?" she growled in a low voice, elbowing him in the side.

"Did you just compare yourself to a Disney princess?"

"So what if I did?" she murmured, smiling slightly at his comment. She glanced at him for a moment, only to find his eyes staring directly into hers, and immediately looked away. Evelyn bit her lip and cleared her throat awkwardly. "I could totally be a Disney princess," she said in a forced tone. "I'm fucking lovely. And I have a fantastic singing voice."

"Yeah," Hal said through a snort which also had a forced sound to it. "A Disney princess who rides around the countryside and takes down trolls with an Uzi. We should write a screenplay."

The two of them fell into silence. Usually banter was a good way to keep the mind away from the potential dangers, but when those dangers rid themselves of the word 'potential' and decided to do a tap dance on your head, witty rejoinders weren't exactly in the forefront of Evelyn's thoughts. At the moment the words floating around in her noggin were more along the lines of 'oh shit,' 'I don't want to die,' and just general crying noises. Maybe this was more interesting than searching for Ben and Amy.

Evelyn burrowed into the back cushion of the car, trying to conceal herself further. Hal wrapped his arms around her middle, pulling her closer to him and she followed suit. If they got any closer together they would have merged into a single, massive, amoeba-like blob.

"You should really eat more junk food," Evelyn whispered, breaking the tense silence. "You're too freaking bony."

"Well I'll be sure to bring a pillow next time," Hal retorted.

Evelyn gritted her teeth and took another deep, calming breath, inhaling the scent of Hal's jacket. It smelled like motor oil and leather. "I had better not die in a fucking Honda civic," she bit out, her teeth still clenched. "If I die in a car, I want to be something classier and less practical. Like a Jaguar or an Aston Martin."

Hal laughed lightly again, his breath blowing on her hair and making it tickle her neck. "My first car was a civic," he murmured. She could feel his eyes on her, but she stared intently out the window. It had 212,000 miles on it. Noone understood why I wanted it, but I had just started dating this girl Rita, and there weren't too many places we could go, so…..that car…"

"Was it like your bachelor pad?" she supplied, in a cheerfully mocking tone.

"You've got to love tinted windows," he replied. "It gave us our privacy."

"And who says romance is dead?" she whispered back, a teasing smile covering her face. "A spacious back seat, some sexy-time music playing on the radio, and you've got yourself a veritable shaggin' wagon. Hal Mason, keeping it classy since…..when exactly?"

"Shut up."

"Rita," she said, tasting the name on her tongue and trying to conjure up a mental image of its owner. "Rita…..that was the blonde chick who always wore those tight, stretchy pants. She was in my European history class. Not the brightest crayon in the box."

"Well we can't all read Kafka for fun, can we?" Hal shot back jovially. "She was a dancer—jazz. You remember those shows for school? She would always wear those special jazz dance pants. The first time I saw her on stage, I was in love. Like love at first sight."

"Yeah, you and the rest of the audience possessing of a Y chromosome," Evelyn replied through a snort. "You were a teenage boy, Hal. There's another word for it." She shook her head slightly. "Love at first sight in dance pants? Don't be ridiculous."

The two of them started laughing uncontrollably and shushing each other, somehow unable to restrain themselves even though gigantic, death-dealing robots were literally feet away from them. Evelyn's chest started to ache from trying to force back the laughter and she glanced up at Hal to see how he was faring, finally making eye contact. His eyes were crinkled at the corners, smiling warmly down at her, but there was a hint of seriousness as well.

"You know I've never met anybody who talks like you," he whispered quietly.

"It's all those Jane Austen novels, man," she quipped back. "I read too much early 19th century literature in my formative years. You know the other day I actually used the word 'behoove' in a sentence? I swear, Anthony gave me the weirdest look."

"Nah, I don't mean it like that," he said, shaking his head. "I mean like….the way you talk, it's like you see the world in a completely different way."

"What, Rita didn't have a terribly unique outlook on how the world worked?" she smirked back. "Did those tight little dance pants of hers cut off the blood flow to her brain?"

A roguish grin spread over his face. "There weren't really many words exchanged between us."

"Look at you, being all studly," she said smacking his chest. "And what about Karen?"

The grin from his face faded abruptly and was replaced with a troubled look, complete with furrowed eyebrows and a slight frown. Evelyn felt Hal's body tense up underneath her, and she knew that she had just crossed a very big line. He cleared his throat and shifted slightly, making her panic. "I, uh, I didn't really get a chance to find out."

Evelyn knew she should probably say something—that she should apologize—but at the moment she was far too busy berating herself. It was never a good idea to bring up the ghost of a harnessed girlfriend when hiding out from mechs. Or ever. After she was done calling herself every name in the book she realized that outside the cage of her own mind, it was quiet. The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade of mechs had passed them by. They were safe.

"We're—we're good to go now, yeah?" she said, still whispering.

"Yeah," Hal murmured back. "Yeah, we've got more work to do."

After a bit of awkward readjusting, Evelyn managed to open the car door and climb out, hoping that some distance between her and Hal would lessen that really shitty feeling that was building up inside of her.

It didn't.

Hal climbed out after her and began moving towards the bikes which were parked a few yards back. Evelyn stared at his back as he moved. "Shit," she growled, pulling nervously hair. "Hal!"

He paused and glanced over his shoulder at her, and she jogged towards him. "I'm an idiot," she said simply, stepping in front of him.

Hal made a face and shook his head. "It's fine, really. It's no big deal. It's—"

"It's not fine," she mumbled, rocking back on her heels and scratching at the back of her neck nervously. "I—I don't think before I talk a lot of the time—one of the many reasons I always manage to find myself in trouble. But I should know better, especially when it comes to….stuff like that. Anyways, it was a dick move bringing it up and I'm sorry. I should have stuck to making fun of you pathetically standard teenage boy libido. The jokes are easier there anyway."

Through her stumbling monologue, a smile crept over Hal's face, tugging at the corners of his lips, and the twisted knot in the pit of her stomach began to untie itself. Evelyn let out a long, slow breath. "So are we good?"

Hal exhaled sharply and cocked his head to the side in that unbearably self-confident way only he could achieve. "You and me Evey? Always."

Evelyn pursed her lips and gave a single definitive nod. "Good. Then I can tell you that you have terrible taste in cars. A civic? What are you, a soccer mom from 1995?"

Hal opened his mouth—no doubt to provide a snarky remark—but before he could Tector's Tennessee drawl called out after them. "You guys alive?" he asked.

"And refreshed," Evelyn called out over her shoulder. "I had a nice nap."

"Nice."

After exchanging one last reassuring look, Evelyn and Hal continued to their bikes.

"Guys, have you ever noticed how you never hear crickets at night anymore?" Crazy Lee asked as the four of them assembled. "Traffic, jets in the air—"

"And Mr. Omanski's TV next door," Tector tacked on, getting wistful. "Ranger's game blaring away. Bottom of the ninth, bases loaded, that sweet crack of the bat, and the crowd goes wild!" He paused for a moment and glanced between the lot of them. The boyish smile faded from his face as he sidled up next to his bike. "Sorry. I just miss that stuff is all."

"Aw, come one, man," Crazy Lee said, pulling him into a one-armed hug. "Maybe they have baseball in Charleston."

"Yeah, and maybe a TV," he said, dreamily.

Evelyn swung her leg over her bike and tightened the straps of her rucksack on her shoulders while Crazy Lee and Tector prattled on about the amenities they would find in Charleston, a list which had now expanded to include racquetball courts, a steam room, and a massage parlor. Apparently they were headed to a day spa. If Evelyn was being honest, the little fantasy they were building up sounded terrible to her. Sure she missed showers and that special brand of shampoo that smelled like lavender, but now she belonged where she was: riding a motorbike down the abandoned roads.

The revving of engines filled the air as the bikes roared to life. Evelyn gripped the handlebars tightly, enjoying the sort of powerful feeling that flooded through her whenever she felt the hum of the bike beneath her. It was as if the bike itself was whispering a single word into her ear.

Onwards.

She glanced over at Hal who was already looking at her with a smug expression. He revved the engine of his own bike and waggled his eyebrows. Evelyn rolled her eyes and turned to face the road in front of her. They had one more hospital to hit.

"Let's roll!"

**Alright, there's chapter 24. I hope you like it. Please review! Pretty please. I would love to get at least 5 if possible. Love you guys!**

**References:**

**-"Clear liquors are for rich women on diets" is a quote by Ron Swanson of Parks & Recreation**

**-"Monkey with rash" as the name for a constellation is a reference to the TV show 'Psych'**


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